Log Date:
	2/17/97

Log Cast:
	Shenner has finally learned from her boss something of what he has
in mind on Etti IV -- and to her surprise, she's learned that Grathix
actually intends to kill no one, and, in fact, he is interested in
acquiring the Rebel General, Han Solo, that Shenner'd heard about. The
truly surprising part of the plan for Shenner, however, is that Grathix
plans to use _her_ as a distraction -- by setting her up for nothing less
than a concert in the Free-Flight Dance Dome, and having her use hidden
mechanisms in the guitar he's provided her to remotely trigger explosives
to make it look as if she and Prex Simone Drake have been killed.
	Immensely relieved to hear that she will not be expected to
kill anyone, Shenner also feels a surprising pang of conscience that
compels her to ask her employer whether -- assuming he actually manages
to acquire Solo -- the man'll be returned to the Rebels. Grathix seems
amused when the young musician mentions having heard of Solo's part in
the recent war, and teases the kid about sounding as if she might not
mind admiring a Corellian who happened to be a war hero. Shenner has
indignantly denied any such thing, but that little niggle of conscience
telling her that returning the Rebel to his people would be the right
thing to do leads her to press that request on her employer.
	After that, it is with a somewhat lightened heart that Shenner
returns to the business of busking -- and this time with the specific
intent of getting people to hear not only her flute playing, but also
her voice. She doesn't count, however, on yet another Corellian being
among her next batch of listeners.....

----------
Walking in with the pompous attitude that can only suggest 'Imperial' is a 
  young human male with striking blonde hair and a walk that suggests strict 
  and long military training. The sun makes his jacket glow radiantly, and the 
  image of a knife plunging through the world of Alderaan is a wake up call 
  for all to see.

The park is, unsurprisingly, quiet at this hour -- or at least, mostly quiet. 
  Drifting on the night-time air is the simple, unadorned voice of a wooden 
  flute, though the melody it plays, fast-tempoed, minor-keyed, and hitting 
  hard accents on the notes, is at odd with the instrument's mellow tone. A 
  scan of the park might reveal the music's source, a scruffy-looking figure 
  sitting cross-legged on a bench near a lamppost, the light of which casts 
  faint glitters down onto the silken cloth on the bench next to the flute 
  player.

Stalh seems suddenly taken aback as the flute breaks his concentration and 
  Imperial manner or excellence.
He turns to look at the...'thing'..playing the flute...He finds it peculiar 
  that such a scuffy thing can play so well.
Stalh walks closer to the ruffian.
Stalh's hand goes slowly down to his blaster-unaware of what or who the 
  ruffian may be.
Stalh walks right up to you and sits next you on the bench. He turns sideways 
  so his left hand has easy access to his blaster if needed so.
His eyes which give the impression of an imminent storm approaching transfix 
  on your face. He is a little curious as to your manner of being.
The Imperial Officer's voice come eerily towards you. "What are you playing?" 
  The voice is strong but deceitful-full of suspicion.

The musician's head quirks, as the youngster clearly notes your arrival. Dark 
  eyebrows crook over warily glinting green eyes that dip first to the silken 
  cloth you've just swept aside, then back up to you. Without the flute 
  moving, the reply comes across its mouthhole, blandly, "A flute," before the 
  song is resumed without missing a beat.

Stalh
Before you stands the epitimy of Imperial power. A young Human male of 185 
  centimenters is dressed in the ever-impressive all black uniform of an 
  Imperial Officer. His uniform is without blemish, you cannot even notice a 
  small crease upon further inspection. Over the top of this uniform is a 
  black leather jacket. The jacket has two distinct markings. The first one is 
  the lines of red and blue squares that adorn the man's left breast. The 
  other feature is a picture on the back of the jacket. It is a picture of 
  planet,with a watery aura about it. Most shockingly is a large knife which 
  has been thrusted into the planet. Blood oozes from the pierce marks. Below 
  the picture is written 'Remember Alderaan...Cause your planet is next.' The 
  man's face is also captivating as the jacket. His blondish-brown hair is 
  evident, but only slightly due to the man wearing a cap. His hear appears 
  very straight and fine. The man's eyesare appealing. Their grey/blue colour 
  gives the impression of an incoming storm in the distance, yet they fit in 
  with proportion to the rest of the man's face.
His highly polished jackboots are only matched by the leather belt and the 
  black gloves that he wears. Clipped to his belt is a holster. Inside this is 
  a blaster that has a site for further effectiveness.
Carrying:
Hades
Droid Controller

Stalh rises in disgust. He looks at his blaster briefly then back to your 
  face. His eyes narrow and a meaner look is prominent. "Do not triffle with 
  me...boy...The world has no use of ruffiants of obvious ill-breeding and 
  misuse. You disgust me boy! And I ask you again! What are you playing! If 
  you answer with 'Flute' you die-What song are you playing!"
Stalh mutters something that 'it' is obviously not an Imperial subject or a 
  Corellian.

Shenner does lower the flute slightly at this, eyes crinkling at the stream of 
  insults, lip curling just a bit at the last muttered words. The redheaded 
  youngster then shrugs, apparently indifferent, and says, "Kill me, then. It 
  doesn't have a name yet, I can't tell you what it's called."

Stalh glares at his blaster.
Stalh readies a Hvy. Rep. Blaster
Stalh smiles evilly. "Perhaps I should."
Stalh says, "But..."
He pauses and smiles wryly into your eyes. "You obviously 
  have...some...talent...Perhaps you will be of use to me..."
Stalh says, "I am of need for an...entertainer...-aboard the ship and for my 
  personnal needs. I suppose you would be suufice."

In the illumination cast off by the lamppost, it might be perhaps difficult to 
  tell whether the musician pales at all. The green eyes do remain flatly 
  neutral, as does the voice, as the redhead replies, "I have a manager 
  already. If you're interested in buying my contract, take it up with him."

Stalh says, "I dont want a manager...I want a person to be an 
  entertainer...prove your worth to me and I will see you are taken care of."
Stalh says, "Permanently."
You arent sure whether or not there is malice in those words-perhaps or 
  perhaps not.
Stalh Smiles at you-but his hand remains firmly on his blaster, of which the 
  safety is off.

By way of reply, the kid reaches into a vest pocket, produces a little vial of 
  oil, and dabs a bit on the flute's surface. While rubbing the oil in, the 
  musician looks up at you, and says in a polite enough tone that doesn't 
  quite manage the wary green gaze, "Sorry, not interested. My current boss is 
  already keeping me fed and sheltered and in rentals of lesson holos to 
  practice my guitar, and he doesn't insult me or threaten to kill me if I 
  play something he doesn't like."

Stalh pauses..."Though a girl would be better-I suppose you will do-Though 
  your voice is high-your contralto is all wrong...but If you can sing as well 
  as you play-you will be welcomed to my domain.
Stalh says, "Fed? and sheltered?"
Stalh laughs You look like the child of a night worker. Come with me and you 
  will be safe from the miscreants of the desolete world. The Imperial world 
  is very caring towards humans with...talent. You would be suffice.
Stalh re-intakes something that was said before..."Contract you say...Hmm..."
Stalh says, "And your manager is??"
tHE immiediate thought that runs through Stalh's mind is that the manager is 
  also a disreputant-prolly in-bred.
Stalh looks at the small vial of oil. "Play for me, and I can get you more oil 
  than that."
Stalh thinks..."You dont seem to understand the situation here boy. I need an 
  entertainer for parties held at the Embassy. You are the best I have seen on 
  this...whole...The Imperial Government wants you to play for the 
  Vide-Director of Diplomacy. We will pay of course-and benefits would be most 
  convienient."

But something has subtly shifted in the kid's face -- first at the mention of 
  the Empire, and it has hardened further at the suggestion of that face's 
  owner's probable parentage. "Let me get this straight," the tenorish voice 
  drawls. "I'm an ill-bred, whore's son ruffian, but the Imperial Government 
  wants me to play for 'em? Forgive me," and there isn't much apology in the 
  kid's tone, "for soundin' dubious, pal, but I ain't exactly the entire 
  Imperial Symphony Orchestra."

Stalh scoffs-'Of course not. Dont be mistaken my boy-You arent that 
  good!...But Madam Chantinelle is being given a party in her honour- I 
  request you to play. Your..dubious..past is not a concern for me at the 
  moment...I wish for you to play for Chantinelle...Do this for me-and I see 
  to it that you...are well looked after while in Imperial controlled 
  worlds-You have my word as an Officer,and a human.
Stalh says, "Play for her-it will be most rewarding to you."
Stalh says, "We arent all heratless monsters-you do not need to be afraid. 
  Play for us."
Stalh stops short of saying please,but his manner seems to suggest that he is 
  earnest in his offer.
Stalh goes to his jacket and opens a small datapad.
Stalh Withdrawals a few metal items and replaces the datapad.
Stalh gives you a few hundred Imperial credits. "Here , as a sign of good 
  intent. Go buy something nice."

Something, perhaps a flicker of recognition, crosses the kid's eyes at the 
  mention of the name 'Chantinelle'. A sardonic twist remains on one corner of 
  that pale, lean mouth, as the green gaze considers you, and as the tenorish 
  voice finally says, "You want me to play for somebody, formal like, take it 
  up with my manager. His name's Grathix, and he's workin' on havin' me play 
  places. Me, _I_ just busk." Then, at the offer of the money, those green 
  eyes blink.

Stalh waves the money. "you find this attractive? Play for me and you will 
  have more than this. Even more w/out your..manager.

Shenner's face closes off, perhaps in offense. "Grathix's credits are just as 
  good as yours are, pal," the kid says, reaching for a leather sheath into 
  which the flute is slipped, "and he don't wave no blaster in my face and 
  call me street scum one beat, then shower me with money and tell me what a 
  good little musician I am the next. You want me to come play for this party, 
  you work it out with my boss. Want your own personal piper, you find 
  yourself another street rat."

Shenner, with that, gets up, slinging the flute along one shoulder, and 
  strides off down the walkway, heading for the park exit.

[End log.]