Log Date:
	10/12/97

Log Cast:

Log Intro:

----------
Ensign Abrams, still rather astonished that the Senator's aides have in fact 
  agreed to arrange a meeting for the girl that's been placed in his charge, 
  dubiously escorts Rellawy Woodlake to Mon Mothma's quarters. There, at her 
  door, the young ensign halts to confer with the guard keeping a watch, 
  offering a salute, and a "Rellawy Woodlake to see the Senator."

Rell herself, rather more dubious about this entire concept than the ensign, 
  simply keeps her mouth shut and tries to stand as straight and tall as 
  possible.

You enter Mon Mothma's quarters.
Mon Mothma's Quarters(#1484RJ)
This is suite of two rooms, divided by an ever-opened doorway, provided for 
  the Alliance's leader. A desk predominates the main room, along with a 
  computer console, tidy stacks of datacards, and a datapad that is rarely far 
  from the former Senator's hands. Nothing sentimental or decorative alters 
  the military lines of the walls and flooring; this place is for business, 
  and nothing that distracts from that purpose is evidenced.
Contents:
Mon_Mothma
Obvious exits:
Out  

"Thank you, Ensign...do show her in. And that will be all for now." The Chief 
  of State murmurs to Rellawy's escort as she puts aside the datapad that 
  seems forever in her hands and offers an even, green-eyed gaze at the young 
  woman. "Do sit down, Miss Woodlake."

The girl has cleaned herself up, though she's still wearing the same grubby 
  clothes in which she's been padding around ever since her arrival on Home 
  One. They are, however, clean now, and her hair appears to have had a 
  passing brush with grooming. Solemn of expression, Rell inclines her head 
  and says, "Thank ye, ma'am, and thankee for seein' me. I know ye're busy, so 
  I willnae make this long... but I wanted to tell ye I've been thinkin' about 
  what ye told me, on the observation deck."

The Ensign, dismissed for the nonce, goes to wait outside, though Abrams casts 
  a curious glance at the young Miss Woodlake as he goes.

Mon_Mothma's eyes narrow as the girl speaks, finger tapping against her lips 
  in a thoughtful way. "Rellawy, haven't you gone to Procurement to get new 
  clothing? Some should have been provided to you ages ago."

That throws the girl a bit off-stride, and she looks blank for an instant 
  before blurting, "Uh, ma'am, I hadnae thought of it." Her eyebrows go up. 
  "I've made no pledges to ye yet, and I didnae think ye'd be in the habit of 
  providin' clothin' to random visitors...?"

Mon_Mothma keeps her voice soft and conversational despite the underlying 
  steel in her tone. "Rellawy," she explains patiently, "you're a guest here 
  and therefore under our protection. We don't treat our guests that badly, do 
  we?"

Rell does her best not to fidget under that steady regard, though she can't 
  quite eliminate the nervousness in her young features; the conversation 
  hasn't begun the way she'd expected, and this shows subtly, in her 
  expression. "Major Morgan and Ensign Abrams ha' been kind to me, aye," she 
  answers earnestly. "For which I'm duly grateful. I did want to say that, 
  too."

"It's their responsibility to be good to you." Mon Mothma laces her fingers 
  together and continues calmly, "After you leave here, you're to report to 
  our Quartermaster for fresh clothing. Is that understood?"

"Ah... aye, ma'am, and I thank ye..." Rell swallows, and makes another attempt 
  to direct this encounter in a way she'd originally intended, as she goes on 
  politely, "... though it's my bein' here to begin with that's the other 
  thing I wanted to speak to ye on. Captain Drake" -- and there is a slight 
  hesitation, just barely noticeable, on the name -- "said that he's talked 
  with ye, and that he'll be workin' for ye... but he didnae say whether he'd 
  told ye why he brought me here....?"

Mon_Mothma smiles faintly and inclines her chin ever so slightly. "He 
  explained things to me more thoroughly, as I had desired, and yes, he's 
  officially joined our cause. The question I have, my dear young woman, is 
  whether you've decided what your fate is to be. I've been given to 
  understand your medical skills are unparalleled, and we're in desperate need 
  of people of that skill."

No doubt about it, Rell's face goes slightly paler. "He... did tell ye, 
  then...? What I am... what I do?"

"You're to do what you wish, of course, but there's the fact that you seem a 
  young lady of considerable talent and presence of mind." Mon Mothma shrugs 
  slightly. "It's not for me to decide, but I would formally offer you a 
  position with our Medical Corps."

Rell's eyes drop closed for a moment, and she lets out a very soft breath; her 
  face tenses slightly, and her hands probably do as well, although they are 
  out of sight, in her lap. "How much of me... has Captain Drake told ye, 
  ma'am?"

Mon_Mothma says nothing, allowing another shrug and uplifting of the hands to 
  answer for her.

_Dammit..._ Swallowing down another surge of nervousness, Rell opens her eyes 
  again; her blue-green gaze looks a trifle haunted as she makes herself look 
  as steadily as she can at the Senator. "I dinnae know how much of 'skill' 
  there is to it, ma'am. I... heal. Whether I want it, or not. I dinnae know 
  much of what I do when it happens... save that when it does... I... see 
  inside the one I heal." As she speaks, her voice grows rougher, and the 
  words escape her with apparent reluctance... and perhaps more than a little 
  fear. "It's why the Hutt took me on Nar Shaddaa, and it's why Captain Drake 
  left when yer people told him not to."

Mon_Mothma squints slightly, practically the only reaction she shows after 
  this bit of information. "I see," she replies mildly, calmly. "What has Mr 
  Drake said to you about this gift?"

"He thinks I... might be Jedi, and I've asked him... to teach me to control 
  it." This, too, comes out of Rell in a hoarse, small tone, an admission 
  costing her in its voicing. "For I... cannae give ye much aid. Not as I am. 
  Not right now."

Mon_Mothma takes in a deep, deep breath and releases it, inclining her tall 
  frame against the back of her seat as she states wryly, "I am apparently 
  surrounded by people in similar predicaments, Rellawy. I expect this means 
  you wish to avail yourself of Mr Drake's talents and remain here?"

The girl's chin lifts slightly. That might be fright in her eyes, but Rellawy 
  Woodlake is apparently doing her damndest to deal with it. "I'd like that, 
  aye, if there'll be no problem with it. I'm willin' to work for food and a 
  bunk to sleep on, and takin' up some of your ship's air. I used to help my 
  Da fix his ship, and Major Morgan's been lettin' me work some for him."

A sigh escapes the Chief of State before she nods. "That is fine...I'm sorry 
  to say that we do not have the luxury to harbour non-workers for long on the 
  fleet's ships. However, I need to ask if you're formally joining the 
  Alliance; doing so requires an oath we all take very, very seriously."

"Tell me first what I must vow, before I say aye or nay..." A touch of 
  canniness, a touch of wariness, to Rell's otherwise nervous, frightened 
  expression; either the girl has been burned before, or else at the very 
  least has been taught to or has enough natural savvy to avoid a blind 
  committment.

Mon_Mothma smiles thinly. "If you believe in the Alliance and what we're doing 
  through our stand against the Empire, you'd not be wary to make such an 
  oath, Miss Woodlake. I'll permit you to remain for a brief time on Home One 
  until your decision can be made. It cannot be an unlimited period, however."

With straightforward honesty, the girl says, "I dinnae _know_ what ye're doin' 
  against the Empire, to tell ye truly." She rises, though, perhaps sensing a 
  dismissal. "But I'd like to learn, ma'am. How long will ye give me?"

"One month." The older woman smiles briefly, adding, "I apologize if this 
  sounds harsh, but bear in mind what we do here is dangerous. We cannot 
  expose people to that risk unless they commit to our cause and, by 
  extension, accept that risk."

The girl's eyes have gone graver. "I understand," she says simply. "Will it be 
  alright, if I work for Major Morgan in the meantime?"

Mon_Mothma nods. "Major Morgan will have to understand he's responsible for 
  you, but I assume that's all right with him. Any other questions?"

Rell glances away, slightly, still with that air of just barely controlled 
  nervousness about her. But she looks up again quickly, and shakes her 
  tousled head. "No ma'am. If there's aught else ye wish to know of me, I'll 
  say it, though."

The smile Mon Mothma offers in response is small and serious. "That is 
  expected as conditional of you staying here. Contact a duty officer about 
  quarters as well."

Mon_Mothma pauses, then adds, "Perhaps Major Morgan's companion, Captain 
  Payne, will loan you hers, as I understand she and the Major share his 
  quarters now."

Again, the girl looks taken aback, as she opens her mouth, closes it, and then 
  opens it again. "I... I'll ask her of that then, ma'am. And thankee for the 
  suggestion." A beat, and then, "I've said what I came to say, then; if 
  there's naught else, I'll returnin' to the hangar...?" Not quite a question, 
  though her final word rises slightly, inquiringly.

Mon_Mothma nods and takes up her datapad, answering, "Yes, thank you, and 
  please let me know in future what your decision is regarding the Alliance. 
  Good day."

A single nod... and the girl quickly takes her leave, her face still 
  determinedly set as she goes.