Log Date: 3/27/98 Log Cast: Luke, Rellawy, Morgan, Dent, Terence, Steele Log Intro: ---------- Home One: Conference Room This is a small conference room, draped in the colors of the Old Republic, save for, at the very front of the room, a bold red banner with the symbol of the Alliance. A long oval table nearly fills the room; there are chairs for twelve, high-backed affairs that encourage militarily correct postures. The front of the room contains a bank of electronic equipment, including a small holoprojector and a computer terminal. A single blast door, solidly reinforced, opens out into the corridor. Contents: Dent Luke Morgan Terence Obvious exits: Central Corridor Luke is standing at the back of the room, hands clasped behind his back. He is looking at an impressive galactic map. Rellawy slips into the room, looking if it's possible tireder than is usual for her; she's dark around the eyes, with a barely controlled fretfulness about her. Her gaze sweeps the room, and she snaps off a salute at large. Luke walks around the room examining the various display and maps on the wall. His course will eventually take him to the head of the room. Morgan tips his chair, relaxing. Sort of. Those chairs are awfully straight-backed. Luke says, "There is a damaged A-Wing in the possession of an independent frieghter pilot there." Silently, Rell settles into a chair towards the end of the table, taking a moment to close her eyes, pinching her nose between her fingers. Dent quietly taps his fingers on his pants leg. Morgan fiddles with the buttons on his datapad. Luke comes to a halt at the front of the room. "Good evening, all. It seems that the others are occupied with other things at the moment so we will begin without them." Dent looks up at the commander, nodding. He folds his hands and places them in his lap. Luke clasps his hands behind his back. "This little group is going to Nar Shaddaa for a variety of reasons. Information being the most important commodity any of you can gather." He paces slowly. "Second, to find out why there is a damaged A-Wing there and any other particulars on that that can be found out. Lastly, to bring the ship here for possible repair." "First, I would like to give the floor to Terence." Luke stops his pacing to look at the individual in question. "So that he can tell us about this pilot. Terence." Morgan says "Regarding your last two points; you've sufficient faith in the source of this information that you're willing to send us when this may be a trap?" Dent turns his attention to Morgan in the back of the room. Terence waits to stand and watches Morgan. Luke turns to Morgan. "If it is a trap, I hope that I've sent some people who can handle the situation." He puts his hand on the table and leans forward. "I would hope you would find out information first and try to get the ship back later. I also expect you to go in as other than Rebels." Morgan says "You mean like in disguise? Oh, I hope I can find a dress in my size. I won't even discuss makeup." Dent smirks, glancing back to Luke. Terence grins lightly at the mans comment. Luke narrows his eyes at Morgan. "Deal with it, Morgan. I just don't want you to go in there proclaiming your affiliation. You know what I mean." Rellawy only listens, her gaze shifting from face to face as the men in the room trade off speaking. The young lieutenant has gone neutral of expression. Morgan rumbles. "We're none of us idiots, no matter what anyone says about me." Pause. "Er, any of us. Yes." Dent shakes his head slightly at Morgan's comment. He uncrosses his legs and stays quiet. Luke smiles calmly. "I don't think you are an idiot even if you act that way most of the time." His eyes twinkle. "Did I answer your question sufficently?" Morgan says "You've said more than enough, thank you. Terence, you're up." Dent's attention goes to Terence now. Luke nods and moves aside. Terence nods and stands up, he walks to the front of the room and looks the small group over before speaking, "Umm.." he scratches his head, "I have found a few things out about the pilot. Her name is Rupell. The ship that she flies is a Y-TT class freighter named the Griffin. Also, the ship has correct registration with CSA." he coughs slightly, "She landed with no cargo, apperently she was deheading from CSA space and encountered hyperspace problems." he looks the room ove again to see if everyone is awake, "In my opinion this should be a realativley save mission." Morgan says "And if it's not, at least we'll die surprised." Dent chuckles quietly. "Oh, that makes me feel a lot better." Luke looks around the room to see if any of the others have any questions. Morgan says "Hey, nobody put me in charge of morale. It's not my job to sweat sunshine and speak naught but sweetness and levity." Morgan says "How'd she pick the ship up, anyway?" Terence looks over at the man and shrugs, "You've got me there." Rellawy meets Luke's gaze, but offers no queries; she also glances briefly at Morgan, almost smiling, though the expression's fleeting at best. Luke nods. "I think that is one of the questions whose answer awaits you on Nar Shaddaa." Morgan says "And who was the pilot? Is he or she dead? Do we know it's even one of ours?" Luke moves back to the front of the room. "Most A-Wings are ours. Dyrna said it had rebel markings when she saw it. As for the pilot.." he shrugs. Morgan says "What's our track record with the CSA? If they're after her, how far will they go? Can they be negotiated with?" Luke turns to Terence. "Did you find out if the CSA is after her?" Terence shakes his head, "No I didn't. If they were I don't know why because she had no cargo, unless it was for other reasons." Morgan says "She had no cargo. Did she say so, did you get a manifest she filed, was this data from a scan by the Nar Shaddaa docking authority, or did you scan her vessel personally?" Terence says "The info came from her last known port before she landed on Nar Shadda." Morgan says "Where was that?" Terence says "Ertic 4." Morgan nods. Luke moves back to the head of the table. "It seems we have little information on this pilot. You may wish to gather more information before you leave. Any other questions for Terence?" Terence nods, "I will." and heads back for his seat. Morgan says "I've done enough for a night - can I get a copy of what you've got, maybe do some investigating of my own?" Luke nods to Morgan. "You will all receive a copy of this information. Feel free to investigater. I don't have to tell you to be careful." Morgan says "That's right. You don't." "Okay." Luke looks around the room. "You all know the objectives. Morgan, you and Bec coordinate for departure time. Any questions?" Morgan says "I'll get you the list of all the questions I think up before this thing goes down, if you like. Got a few more, I'm sure." Luke smiles. "I'm sure you do." Luke looks around the room one last time. "Then, if there is nothing else, this briefing is over. Dent says "One more question." Luke nods to Dent. "Yes?" Dent says "When exactly will we be leaving?" Luke nods. "As I said, Morgan and Bec will coordinate on that." Dent hms. "Just checking again." Luke nods. "Very well. Anything else?" Luke smiles. "Then, we are adjourned." Dent nods and stands. Rellawy glances about the room, as silent as she'd been when she entered; then, as Luke dismisses the meeting, she sits and waits for a moment, perhaps for the others to precede her. Luke makes his way to the door, passing by Rellawy. He smiles at her softly and slows. Dent leaves the room behind Luke. When he slows, he passes by him and out into the hall. Dent has left. Morgan, on the table's far end, finds something to distract himself with so as not to appear very nosy - regardless of how nosy he's being. Rell's gaze shifts up to the young Jedi, and her mouth twitches momentarily in something that passes close to a smile. "Dinnae let me keep ye, Commander." Luke's smile softens. "You are not. I was just wondering if you were alright. You seem more fatigued than usual." The young lieutenant waves a hand, dismissively. "'Twas a long and loathsome day I had; I'll get over it." Rell tries and doesn't quite achieve another faint smile. "But thanke." "Anything I can do?" Luke is concerned. Rell considers Luke, tiredly. "Convince everyone aboard to feel naught for the next ten hours or so, so I can get somethin' like sleep?" she asks, tone husky, almost wry, though her eyes are not. Luke laughs lightly. "Have you tried that meditation technique I taught you? That quiet place?" To that, Rellawy nods gravely, apparently too tired to be nervous, for her gaze rests steadily on Skywalker. "Aye." She ponders, then adds, "D'ye think such things're harder to be doin', when you're tired?" Luke shrugs and nods simultaneously. "Sometimes. Do you wish assistance?" "I..." A pause, from Rell, and her gaze briefly drops, then rises again. "Do ye... have aught else ye need to be doin'?" Luke places a hand on her shoulder lightly. "If you need help, I have the time." <> The young woman blinks, then her expression wavers a little, eyes shivering closed. She catches her breath, then manages to answer, "Then... aye, please..." Luke does not lower his hand. "Perhaps we should move this to your room. If this works, you may be asleep." Rellawy blinks, then nods, just a touch unsteadily. "Aye..." She seems to subtly steel herself, and then she rises. Luke notices her reaction. "Is this acceptable? If you prefer, we can work here." She does manage a smile, then, and observes, "If I drop into sleep, I'd rather be sleepin' upon my bunk than on the table. Even if my quarters are a closet." Rallying herself enough to gesture to the door, Rell adds, "After you, Commander...?" "Luke," he corrects softly as he proceeds her out of the conference room. Luke has left. Home One: Central Corridor The headquarters frigate of the Rebel Alliance, the Mon Calamari cruiser Home One, exemplifies Mon Cal esthetics. Surfaces are smooth and curved, dimensions fascinatingly irregular. Form and function blend into a harmonious whole, instrumentation and data readouts seemingly appearing from nowhere, tucked away in natural-seeming nooks. A maze of corridors winds through the ship's multiple decks. Quarters and operational facilities for thousands of beings are layered within, and the passageways are busy at all times of day and night. Contents: Dent Luke Steele Obvious exits: Corridors Conference Room Hangar Bay Briefing Room Ship's Infirmary Training Room Mess Hall Living Quarters Bridge Observation Deck Luke walks out a pace of two ahead of Rellawy. They turn and head toward the living quarters. Rellawy follows Skywalker out of the conference room, rather resembling someone who's been on three consecutive shifts of duty without a nap between. She glances at the others in the hall as she passes, and bobs her head in silent polite acknowledgement. Steele snorts quietly to himself, shifting his weight on his feet. "I do have some clearance, Lieutenant Jackson." The men at his side have begun to talk quietly, though the Colonel makes no attempt to stop them. "I must contact him." Steele turns his head, following the two others as they procede towards the living quarters. He looks as if he is about to say something to them, then perhaps decides against it, turning his eyes away. Luke has left. "Perhaps Commander Skywalker might have that information." He offers. Steele arches an eyebrow, his eyes slipping back to the living quarters, searching for the man that was there moments ago. "Ah..Skywalker..I have heard of him before, I believe. Where can I find him?" Home One: Living Quarters(#645RL) The headquarters frigate of the Rebel Alliance, the Mon Calamari cruiser Home One, exemplifies Mon Cal esthetics. Surfaces are smooth and curved, dimensions fascinatingly irregular. Form and function blend into a harmonious whole, instrumentation and data readouts seemingly appearing from nowhere, tucked away in natural-seeming nooks. A maze of corridors winds through the ship's multiple decks. Quarters and operational facilities for thousands of beings are layered within, and the passageways are busy at all times of day and night. At the far end of the corridor is a single doorway guarded at all times by two Special Forces soldiers in formal uniforms. Contents: Luke Obvious exits: Quarters Barracks Central Corridor Luke stops before the proper door and waits. Once the two of them reach the appropriate corridor, Rell thumbs open the door, and murmurs dryly, "Suck in your breath, Com... Luke. Ye'll fit better." Rellawy Woodlake's Quarters(#2070RFJ) The quarters rated for a second lieutenant are neither large nor impressive; in fact, this single room could be uncharitably described as only slightly more spacious than the average closet. There's just enough space for a small bunk, desk, and chair, and recessed into the walls on either side of the bunk are a miniscule actual closet and the door to an equally microscopic refresher. Everything is crafted in austerely military hues and lines, with no sign yet of any personal effects to add color and life to the room. Obvious exits: Out Luke has arrived. Luke walks in and looks around. "You are right. It is small, but it is big enough for living." Rell's quarters are, indeed, small and spartan. The only spot of real color and light in the room is a small globe nestled on a folded cloth upon her desk, glimmering faintly, casting out light from within itself. The lieutenant grins tiredly and murmurs, "'Tis not all that bad, compared to Nar Shaddaa, but I try to complain every so often just because Colonel Morgan seems to think I should..." Rellawy adds, pointing to her one chair, "If ye'd like to be sittin'...?" Luke nods and sits. "Make yourself comfortable, Rellawy. This works best if you are relaxed." Rellawy blows out a breath and nods; only now, in the shelter of her own quarters, does she seem to slump, to allow herself to drop something that might be an external facade she wears around the cruiser's halls. Its dropping serves to let her face and frame seem even more exhausted, as she settles down to sit on the edge of her bunk. "Alright," she breathes out, her gaze shifting to the shimmering globe on the desk. Luke looks over at the light fixture. His eyes narrow as he concentrates on it. The light dims to about half. "There. Now, lie back and get comfortable as if you are going to sleep." The globe on the desk responds readily to the Jedi's nudge, glimmering briefly and brightly, before obediently dimming to a lower level. Rell blinks, then smiles a little and settles back stiffly onto her bunk. There's a flare of relief in her expression, just for the sake of becoming horizontal. Luke stands and walks to the foot of the bunk where he removes her shoes. "There, that's better." Returning to his seat, he continues. "Start by closing your eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths." Rellawy lifts her head in momentary startlement, glancing up at Luke. Oh. Shoes. She nods tautly and lies back again, eyelids shuddering down. She draws in an erratically paced breath, releases it, then does both again. Luke smiles and reaches out to take her hand. "Relax. Breathe naturally, deeply. You are in your room. You are safe here." The lieutenant's slender fingers are subtly twitching, tense. She murmurs "Aye", though whether it's agreement or just a sign that she'd heard might be difficult to tell. <> Tempting... yes. Rell can be felt to shudder, her held hand's fingers stiffening in momentary startlement. But within, she reaches out with untutored senses and an undeniable thirst for that flowing calm. Luke closes his eyes and lets Rellawy pull the comfort to her. He sits silently, waiting for the level of relaxation that he desires. Her mental grasping is unthinking, reflexive, the reaction of an exhausted child pulling a treasured blanket to her. There's a flare of memory in her immediate surface thoughts -- mayhem in the Infirmary today, as someone, seriously wounded, had required immediate surgery. Major Matthias, sharply ordering her out of the room. Here and now, though, Rell curls that sensation coming into her thoughts around herself, letting it begin to soak warmly through her consciousness. "Remember that corridor." Luke's voice floats audibly out of the darkness. Yes, the light is all but extinquished. "Walk down the corridor full of emotions and memories toward that door at the end." Walk? She doesn't want to walk, she wants to sleep... but Rell stirs a little anyway, as it grows slowly but inexorably easier for her to relax. Her hand in Luke's shakes a moment, before unconsciously curling around the larger set of fingers; in her thoughts, Rell lets the corridor shape itself, though it's half-formed and hazy. Her progress through it is sporadic -- with equal fervor, she'd both wanted to flee and remain in the Infirmary, the wounded technician's pain screaming across her consciousness, memory of it still lingering queasily in her mind. Luke returns the handclasp. "It is okay. The door is right ahead. It opens for you and you can step through, leaving all this pain and hurt behind." There's nervousness and embarrassment trickling across Rell's thoughts, but there's also a growing shade of trust, and the young empath allows herself to be cajoled in through that door. After a few moments her breathing begins to ease, and as it does, the corridor in her head gains a bit of focus. Luke's voice seems closer, more intimate. "That's it. This is that quiet corridor that leads to your private place. It is just down at the end. That place where nothing and noone can bother you." Rell's mind blurs a little, a wave of exhaustion rippling across it for a moment or two. A flash of uncertainty, not knowing how many hours she'd been on her feet this time... but after a beat the flash dims down into the indistinct corridor in her head, replaced by a surge of yearning. Perfect, blessed, star-strewn silence. Rather than actually traverse the mental hallway, Rell unconsciously changes it, making it shorter; mind-walls blur around her, and all at once she's _there_, at that door. Luke smiles to himself. His voice in her head is actually distant now. "Good. Go in. Rest. Be undisturbed unless by emergency until you are completely rested." That last has some authority to it, unresistable authority. The girl's visualized door, too, is blurry. Rest. Very, very good idea; she can't express how much she longs for even two minutes of undisturbed, sweet, silent sleep. Rell is still clinging to that warmth that has soaked like sunshine through her mind, but she reaches out just as readily for what's become her inner symbol for peace -- a flawless, star-drenched black sky, as if she's built herself a small corner of space behind her eyes. But before she drops herself headlong into the starlight, there's a flare of muzzy curiosity. Of query. What about Luke? "I cannot go with you." Luke's mental voice is calm and distant. "This is your place. You will be just fine. I will watch over you." Rell's thoughts hold still for a moment; so does her hand, before she abruptly gives in to that irresistable order to Rest. A soft sigh escapes her, along with barely audible words: "Ye sleep, too..." And then, her hand goes slack in the Jedi's, her head tilting over slightly towards him. Luke smiles ever so softly as he removes his hand. He reaches out to touch her head, reinforcing his mental command of sleep. Rising, he moves silently to the door where he looks back at the sleeping woman. Then, he smacks his forehead silently. Moving back to the bed, he covers her up before leaving. Rellawy Woodlake doesn't stir, now blissfully, peacefully oblivious as her bunk's blanket is pulled over her. For once, there's not a trace of weariness in her features, making her look very, very young. [End log.]