Log Date:
	2/18/99

Log Cast:
	Buwatcha, Paige (NPC), Ariani (NPC), Emma (NPC), Gavin, Shenner

Log Intro:
	Yet again, a handsome, worldly-seeming man has crossed Shenner's
path -- and Shenner, unnervedly reminded of the long-gone Paul Nighman,
has reacted badly when Gavin Hollister has made repeated attempts to express
his concern for her welfare in the wake of two pickpockets following Shen
around the city. But little does Shenner know that she's about to have her
argument with the good Major driven right out of her head by burgeoning
current events...

----------
Buwatcha enters the Sandbar.
Buwatcha has arrived.

The Sandbar
        A large circular room creates the main part of Caspar's infamous 
  SandBar. Dark wood paneled walls adorned with all sorts of paraphanalia set 
  the relaxed athmosphere of the bar. Photographs and holovids are pinned 
  randomly around, seemingly with no order at all. Posters from years past 
  hang proudly, displaying obscure bits of Plaxton's recent history. Several 
  windows made from a deep blue glass allow light in from outside, while still 
  keeping the appearance of the bar rather dark. Along one curved wall a 
  marble bar stands proudly, where Ariani busies herself making drinks and 
  cleaning occational spots of the bar. There is an abundant amount of seating 
  in here. You notice quite a few booths and tables, as well as a loft which 
  protrudes out over the bar. A popular local band plays smooth jazz in the 
  background. 
----For help with tables, type "PLACE HELP"
----For help with drinks, type "BAR HELP"
                 -=-=-=-=-=-=<<Real Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=-
=> Buwatcha
=> Ariani
=> Emma
                  -=-=-=-=-=<<Visible exits>>=-=-=-=-=-
 <OUT> leads to Fountain Square - Plaxton City.

Paige enters the Sandbar.
Paige has arrived.

A small, furried creature wanders into the Sandbar, dressed in a brown robe. 
  She stands in the doorway, brushing dust off her robe.

The door to the SandBar slides silently open, allowing the entry of the tall 
  darkhaired woman. She finds her way to the bar and signals Ariani almost too 
  seriously.

Buwatcha looks at you for a moment.

The Sandbar's got a credible number of sentients in tonight, despite the nasty 
  weather out -- by now, most of the natives of Plaxton City are resigned to 
  the snow and aren't about to let it stand in the way of a good night of 
  drinking and music. Rekkie, Shenner, and the rest of the musicians are on 
  stage, in the middle of an instrumental number... but Ariani, noticing Paige 
  come in, turns to her with her usual 'what can I get ya?' smile on her face.

Paige
        A tall, sinewy woman stands before you. A mass of dark curls tumble to 
  her shoulders ramshackledly, seeming to have no order about them at all. Her 
  creamy complextion is unblemised, save for an unobtrusive mole upon her 
  right temple. She has clear, dark brown eyes and flashes a row of perfectly 
  straight, ivory teeth. She is dressed in a dark blue cloak and nondescript 
  leggings.

Paige shakes her dark head with a slight frown and pulls out a slim holodata 
  pad. "Ariani?" she inquires in a warm voice. "A message for you and your 
  staff." Her throat gets cleared and she straightens her posture. "From Mrs. 
  President directly."

The bartender blinks. "Yeah, I'm Ariani," she confirms, looking the new 
  arrival up and down, and setting aside the towel with which she'd been 
  cleaning a rinsed glass, coming over to accept the holodata pad. "What's the 
  word?"

The small creature heads up to the bar, hopping on a stool. She is still 
  covered in snow, dumping it off her robe and all over the place, and waves a 
  furried paw in the air to get a waiter's or waitresses' attention.

Emma is the waitress of the evening, and she swings over to smile down at the 
  Jawa and inquire politely what she can get for her.

Buwatcha says, "gooda wam! oonda ithcapa buda wam!", in Jawa.
The creature communicates in some garbled, non-basic language.

Emma
        Emma is Ariani's younger sister who has recently relocated to Plaxton 
  City. She beams as she talks to you, and seems to be a neverending fount of 
  energy. The physical simalarities between Emma and her sister are few, 
  except for the same sparkling grey eyes. Emma's long, fine blonde hair is 
  pulled up in a high pony-tail and a smattering of light freckles adorn her 
  nose and cheeks. She wears a light-blue tunic underneath a brown vest, and 
  deep brown leggings. 

Paige whispers, "As Ariani looks down at the pad, a message is scrawled out in 
  the president's handwriting. "And Imperial fleet has moved in to orbit 
  Caspar and dominate our space. Be prepared for the unexpected. I am tied up 
  at Trimnuvera for the next several days. Make sure that Shen, Rekkie and the 
  Band are safe... I'll send another message with further information as it 
  comes clear." The message is simply signed 'Avy'"

Paige shifts akwardly on her feet as she speaks. "I believe it has something 
  to do with the Imperial Conflict, Ma'am." she manages in her best possible 
  professional voice. This situation has obviously got her shaken.

"Holy--" breathes the bartender, flashing wide alarmed gray eyes up to her 
  visitor, and then rather protectively around the bar... and to the band. 
  "I'll take care of alerting the staff," she promises then in low tones, 
  pitched only loud enough to carry to Paige and no farther. Ariani 
  straightens, arranging her face into her most businesslike, neutral 
  expression. "Is this news public yet?"

A slight shake of Paige's dark hair is the answer to Ariani. "Not yet. But it 
  should be shortly...In the next news-sweep, I am sure it will be heavily 
  covered. Mrs. President was very concerned about notifying the employees 
  here a little ahead of time." She notes uncomfortably.

Ariani nods, gravely. "Okay, I'll make sure the customers keep calm... you 
  better report back in."

In the meantime, Emma blinks her big gray eyes down at the Jawa, and in 
  slightly helpless tones ventures, "I don't suppose you speak Basic?"

Buwatcha shakes her head, not understanding, and repeats back a bit loudly 
  this time.
Buwatcha says, "merpah jiwa! fodi ini! merpah ooo, fodi' buato maowa keepa?", 
  in Jawa.

Paige nods. "Indeed I will, Miss. Please contact her office if you need 
  anything." she says with a nod, and a crisp turn towards the door.
Paige walks out of the Sandbar and the door closes automatically.
Paige has left.

As the messenger makes her discreet withdrawal, Ariani pulls in a soft breath, 
  and turns to survey the bar once more. Her little sister Emma, in the 
  meantime, is still bending slightly over the Jawa, her brow crinkled in 
  bemusement. "Um... can you write Basic? Or, um... a translator, I could get 
  you a translator..."

Buwatcha shakes her head, obviously aggravated. She waves her furried arms in 
  the air, her voice the loud, unintelligible speech of an unsatisfied 
  customer.
Buwatcha says, "rapel moga, maowa dee!", in Jawa.

The band, on stage, is reaching the complicated bridge of the musical number, 
  Rekkie and Shenner's guitars carrying the melody and harmony lines. Backing 
  them up, the keyboards and horns and drums lay down a steady backbeat.

And Emma's young face crinkles in dismay. "I'm sorry," she says plaintively, 
  "I don't understand your language..."

Ariani sighs. One problem at a time -- though, frankly, with the news she's 
  just gotten, one unsatisfied customer doesn't seem like too much of a high 
  priority right now. Still, she takes a moment to step out from behind the 
  bar that is her domain, approaching her sister and the little creature, and 
  interjecting, "Pardon me; is there a problem here?"

Buwatcha turns to Ariani, and lets a flurry of discontent fly at her. The 
  little creature's speech has seemed to crescendo into non-stop banter.
Buwatcha says, "oonda wappa maowa dee rapel' ithcapa ood! ooo dee' ithcapa 
  buda keepa rapel buato maowa!", in Jawa.

[There is, unfortunately, not too much even the best of bartenders can do
 when dealing with a patron with whom she cannot communicate. As the Jawa
 skitters annoyedly off, Ariani worriedly dismisses the incident in light of 
 the news she has just received -- and at her earliest opportunity, she
 quietly spreads the word among the staff of the Sandbar, urging them not
 to let any of the patrons get alarmed. But in the meantime, someone _else_
 contacts the Sandbar, this time with an urgent message for a certain
 redheaded young bard....]

The comm system dials through, and after a moment, the perky visage of 
  Ariani's little sister Emma comes into view on the screen. "Sandbar," she 
  pipes, her cheerful voice slightly at odds with her ever so slightly 
  frazzled expression. "May I help you?"

Gavin seems to be gazing off to the side for a moment or two, before glancing 
  back down at the comlink. "Yes. This is Gavin Hollister. I am looking for a 
  lady that goes by the name of Shenneret Veery. It is fairly important. Do 
  you know where I can reach her?"

Emma blinks, and then nods, trying to look enthusiastic, though the young woman 
  is evidently tired -- or worried about something. "Oh sure, Mr. Hollister, 
  she's here tonight, lemme go get her, she's on stage, but if it's urgent, 
  well! I'll be right back....!" Her face in the commscreen yields for a 
  moment to the view of a wall that's probably in one of the Sandbar's back 
  rooms. It takes three minutes before Shenner's green-eyed countenance 
  appears; hers is rather more somber than Emma's. "Hollister," she says 
  without preamble -- and without what seems to be her usual attitude. "What's 
  the word?"

"Shenner. The word is 'invasion'. I am not your knight in shining armor; 
  consider this one concerned citizen looking out for another citizen of the 
  galaxy." Gavin's words drip with the sarcasm that he apparently feels. 
  "However, I feel some odd obligation to see whether you're okay. If 
  you are, I'll let you go. If you are in actual -need of help-, I'm offering 
  it to you." He pauses, then adds, "And if you can help me, I could use it." 
  His last words are almost a surprise to him.

Shenner's face had been somber before; now, at the sarcastic tone, her eyes 
  flare up with anger, and her gaze snaps down and away from the screen in a 
  visible effort to control herself. After a moment, she looks up again, and 
  replies in a slightly gruffer but still more or less controlled tone, "Our 
  boss has already told us. We're fine for now. Is Princess Leia okay?"

Gavin's tone loses the edge of anger directed at you as he speaks at the 
  screen, "The Princess is fine. However, I am unfortunately in a need of a 
  ride off of Caspar. I am going to try and figure out a way to get out of 
  here. I was going to offer you a chance to get off too, if you need or 
  want it. If you know a way off yourself, however, I could use the tip. If 
  the Imperials find me, it'll get messy. For me. I like my intestines doing 
  their job rather than being a decoration for some Rodian bounty-hunter's 
  belt."

The flare of relief in Shenner's face at the word on the Princess, although 
  brief, is unmistakable; it's readily apparent that this irascible young 
  musician feels fervently enough about Leia Organa-Solo's welfare that it 
  drives all of her usual attitude right out of her voice and face. But then 
  her expression turns grim, with the kind of businesslike set to her slender 
  jaw that suggests she knows exactly how 'messy' it could get, indeed. "I 
  can't go anywhere," she says roughly, "not without the band -- and none of 
  us have a ship, anyway. Miz Laarken's got a vessel, but she's out of contact 
  right now." She glances down and sideways for a moment, her face taking on 
  the intensity of rapidly churning thought. "I guess General Solo musta taken 
  the Princess. Have you talked to Captain Calrissian at all?"

It is obvious that Gavin seems unwilling to divulge any specific information 
  on Leia. "The Princess is fine, as I said. And no, I haven't. I saw him 
  briefly about a week ago. Is he even still on Caspar?" Considering the 
  situation for a few seconds, he then asks, "And do you know how I can reach 
  him?"

A hand comes up and shoves restlessly back through already disheveled red 
  hair; most of it's still caught up in Shen's usual braid, but some tendrils 
  have escaped and fall back across the young woman's pale brow when her hand 
  comes down again. She utters a low anxious curse, and then brusquely 
  answers, "It's been days since I've seen him, sorry, all I know is that he's 
  got a ship called the _Commander of Coins_." _C'mon, street rat, -think-!_ 
  "Uhh... look. If you need to haul ass offworld your best bet's probably the 
  Marines. I know Jonathan Webb -- maybe he can help you. He might, if I ask 
  him."

"I'll be fine. Caspar's security is the real concern. I'd rather not having 
  Marine's diverting from their usual course of action to give me rides 
  offworld. I'll try Captain Calrissian. If he's not available, I'm here for 
  the duration until the New Republic comes back for me." Gavin manages a bit 
  of a smile, "Thanks for the help, though, kid. And tell Webb that if he 
  needs another hand, consider me on reserve. I can't pilot a ship or any sort 
  of real vehicle, but I'm an expert in hand to hand combat."

Shenner promises, "I'll pass that on if I can find him. Look, Hollister--" She 
  pauses, lips pursed, nostrils flaring slightly as she pulls in a breath. 
  Then she releases it, and her expression goes very still save for her dark, 
  stark green regard. "--Sorry I got cranky atcha."

"It's fine, kid. Forgiven and forgotten. You just seem like a nice 
  lady and I was concerned. I won't nosey into your business from now on 
  unless you ask." Gavin flashes a final wane smile at the screen as he 
  replies, "And thanks again for the help. The number is here..." He recites 
  the comlink's ID code. "Have Webb call me if he needs help. Or if you need 
  help. Otherwise, I'm holing up until the NR gets in contact with me."

Shenner's slim pale mouth curls up on one end, slightly sardonically. "I'll 
  take the 'nice'," she gruffly allows, not voicing the obvious corollary. 
  "And hey -- no problem. I can shoot, Ariani can shoot, and Karm and 
  Tethra'll kick the asses of anybody who starts anything in our bar. We'll be 
  okay. You watch your back."

"Don't mess with stormtroopers, Shenner. They're no joke. They've got years of 
  training behind them and years of field experience. They're as good as they 
  get; I'd give 'em odds against most standard New Republic forces any day. 
  And I believe in the Republic; the troopers are just better trained. So 
  don't pull any heroics, okay? You've got my number. Lay low and take care." 
  Gavin speaks his final words of caution into the comlink, then 
  punches off the link.

Shenner says, only, "Yeah," a single low monosyllable of a reply -- no 
  attitude within it, at all. And then, as the link is punched out, "You too."

[End log.]