Log Date: 4/14/98 Log Cast: Jeannie, Errach, Han Solo, Leia, Ozzle, Rishar, Lanthazar, Webb, Taggor, Alyndraya, Ro'que, Venus, Vexa, Meileani Log Intro: The mission on Tatooine has proven pretty much what Han expected -- an opportunity for Kass Turlon to be irate and then some for the last time they'd seen one another and what he'd done then, and an opportunity to find out that his reputation amongst the galaxy's shadier elements has begun to slide due to his recent 'respectability'. Although the job's had the one bright spot of a friendship established with the agent Meileani Kirand, hanging over the entire mission has been Han's awareness of the trouble that Luke is in. It's taken the Corellian practically everything he has to keep himself from bailing on the search for the missing ships and getting back to Leia as quickly as possible, to lend his aid to the search for the captured Jedi. Fortunately for Han, the other NR personnel with whom he'd travelled to Tatooine are willing to give him a lift to Kichnar Station, and it's with part relief and part grim urgency that the former smuggler starts scoping the station for whatever information is going around on the whereabouts of Luke -- not to mention information on the whereabouts of his wife... ---------- Jeannie enters the bar. Jeannie has arrived. The black Nebula, the shadier side of Kichnar(if there was one) A red headed woman steps in, her presence here was a common site in the past, now vists here arn't as frequent, as her gambling habit has replaced her drinking. She stops by the door, dodging a large Trandoshan, leaving the bar. The red head scans the area, looking for signs of life to converse with. Errach enters the bar. Errach has arrived. The red headed reporter of galactic fame, stands by the door way, just out of the entrance, scanning the entire bar. The Black Nebula's fairly shady, alright. And a fairly suitable place for the somewhat scruffy figure in shades of brown slouched at a booth. Lean, bearded, hazel-eyed, the man seems to be keeping company with nothing but a mug, as he occasionally scans the bar as well. Han_Solo(#1491POUAx) This tall, rangy man moves with the loose and confident motions of a fighter, someone accustomed to getting into tight situations... and getting quickly right back out of them. Hair, a mustache, and beard that can all be classified as short, full, neatly trimmed, and a sandy light brown frame a set of ruggedly handsome features, out from which a pair of sharp-gazed hazel eyes consider the galaxy, missing very little that crosses their line of sight. He typically speaks in a lazy almost-drawl. He is currently garbed in a non-descript dark brown shirt of a coarse weave, fairly loosely cut, a desert-dweller's shirt, held securely round his waist by a battered utility belt. As for the rest, it's simple, well-worn blue pants tucked into equally simple, scruffed light brown boots, and a light, sand-colored vest with a hood that can lifted up to keep the sun off the wearer's head. Errach strides into the room, the bare claws on his feet clicking against the floor as he makes his way to the bar. He motions to the bartender for service, has a short conversation, and, soon, is brought a tall glass filled with a thick, dark reddish liquid. He claims one of the barstools as his own and sits. Sipping from his drink, his tongue catching any stray drops, he begins to tap his claws gently on the bar, beating a soft tatoo against the wood. His tongue flicks out occasionnally, as if tasting the air. Leia enters the bar. Leia has arrived. After a few moments, one of the bar employees approaches the large saurian sitting at the bar, and taps him gently on the shoulder. Turning around, a short discussion ensues, the employee pointing emphatically at the blaster pistol holstered on the Saurian's hip. Reluctantly, the large scaled creature gives up his blaster to the man, hissing softly, his skin tone darkening just slightly. Avoiding the trandoshan who just entered, the red headed woman, begins walking slowly thorught the crowded mass of life that inhabits this bar, Stepping over a Ranant, and trying not to run into a dangerous looking Devronian, the woman sits on a stool, with a torn seat cover. and rests her arms on the water stained bar. She calls up for a drink, and bows her head. Lips compressing, the petite brunette who has just entered the cantina stands, hands on hips, gazing about with a furrowed brow topping off her brown gaze. Unhappy? Yep. Irritable? Perhaps. Likely, even. She issues a forceful sigh, taps her foot with marked impatience, and turns toward the hapless waiter who has the displeasure of coming close to her. "Have you seen a tall, thin man with blue eyes and a goatee in here? I know he's on the station _somewhere_." The server, even if he DID know the person in question, shakes his head, tries to grin, and hurries away from the tempermental female. The fellow in brown slouched off at a side booth straightens slightly where he sits, hazel gaze falling on the brunette. He doesn't _quite_ spit his drink out across the table before him, but he looks as if he's just narrowly avoiding doing so. Eyes widening, the lean bearded man follows the petite dark-haired woman with his gaze. Returning to the bar to pick up drink orders for customers, a somewhat irratated waiter shakes his head, mumbling something about demanding customers, and how he wishes he were a rancor keeper rather than a waiter. The red head, listening to the waiter asks him something quietly, and the bitter waiter nods his head over to the woman whom, the reporter recognizes in holos. The large trandoshan at the bar takes another sip of his drink, his tongue agains acting as guard against any drops that attempt to stray. He surveys the crowd in the bar from above, looking out of deep, black eyes, and continues to tap his claws rythmically against the bar. Still the foot of the princess taps in an rhythm of simple and singular frustration. She hasn't caught the hazel gaze of the bearded fellow; otherwise the whimsical appearances and disappearance of Karrde would be far less important to her. After a grunting Gotal stands behind her to request passage, she steps to one side, out of the flow of traffic, and keeps staring around. The reporter at the bar stands up, leaving the disgruntled waiter a hefty tip, obviously making his day. Traversing through the mass of sentients in the bar, nearly tripping on the same Ranat she did before she begins to make her way towards the woman with the braided hair. The red head has the look that any news woman gets when they sense an interview or story to be covered. Calm, cool, and collected -- well, alright, mostly calm; his stance is easy, but his hazel gaze has gone rather bright in his suntanned face -- the man in the booth lifts his mug. And he drinks, steadily, intent on swiftly finishing off the contents of the vessel in his hand, eyes all the while on the angry woman with the dark braided hair. Leia Brown. The color, in its richest state, is found first and most noticeably in her large eyes and lustrous hair, juxtaposed as it is with the flawless cream of her complexion. Her features, too, lure the attention of observers thanks to their subtle beauty and refined demeanor: she is every inch a princess. And yet...and yet...now and again, that noble bearing may slip in favor of the tomboy who coexists with the princess inside so diminutive a frame; the change is apparent in the quirk of her expressive lips or the mischievous twinkle in her gaze. Still, gentlewoman or gamine, she wields her authority and blaster with equal grace, speaks with eloquent elegance, even certain multilingual curses, and remains a tiny armada in female form. She has chosen, for today, a forest green pantsuit, one tailored for a lady to be both comfortable and a touch dressy. About her waist is a black belt and from it hangs a silver cylinder that is typically hidden by the swing of her long, duster-style brown coat. Brown boots finish the inventory of her attire. Oddly, two bruises mar the right side of her face, one on the temple, the other on her cheekbone. Her lustrous hair is in a pair of braids that are looped up, the ends tucked somewhere out of sight underneath. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Lightsaber Leia drinks in a deep breath of the station's thoroughly filtered and recycled air, releasing the breath and a substantial amount of tension with it. The inhalation and exhalation procees is repeated twice, and by the third iteration she seems to have banished much of her easily roused temper. Shrugging to herself, she paces toward the bar, giving dubious glances at the offerings on the tables that she passes. the Red head in the black and green dress, moves to intercept the smaller brown haired woman, pushing a a smaller twi'lek female out of her way, she tries earnestly not to draw attention to herself as she blurts out a slight, "excuse me, madam." her call directed at the princess her self. Leia, pausing, glances toward the redhaired woman and murmurs, "Yes?" Good thing, likely, she has calmed. Putting on her professional face, the red read head extends a hand, and in says in a most anchor woman fashion, "Good afternoon your higness, Jeanette Setzer, IGNews." she pauses a moment, "Would it be possible to arrange an interview to discuss the state of the New Republic and the ongoing war?" she finishes up. pausing then adding "At youre leisure of course." As she takes the proffered hand of the reporter, Leia attains her public visage - regal, cool, but amiable enough - and answers, "Of course, Miss Setzer. I seem to be on Kichnar and Caspar for longer than I anticipated, so perhaps later today, or even tonight, you can contact me care of the shu..." She remains poised, holding Jeannie's hand, but her glance past the reporter has won her a flash of hazel eyes. That glimpse is enough to derail the princess's thoughts as surely as would an ungentle tap of a carbine rifle to the back of her skull. Her expression, in fact, looks similarly stunned. Evidently, the presence of Leia Organa Solo in this dingy, smoke-filled little bar has attracted the notice of more than two sets of eyes. A pair of short, furry beings one booth over from the bearded man in brown jabber excitedly between themselves, glancing at the Princess with motives unreadable in their striped visages. One of them begins to get up, only to be detained by that man in brown, who's finished off his drink and unfolded his rangy frame from his seat. "Don't even think about it," he murmurs unamiably at the pair of aliens, jabbing a finger at them to emphasize his point before swinging round on a booted heel to glance -- with those hazel eyes -- in the direction of the two women. "is something wrong Your Highness?" the news womans voice of professionalism, turns to one of concern, she glances behind her, not noticing anything or anyone, and turns back to the princess, "Are you all right." she finishes. Leia blinks rapidly to clear her vision - and the unhealthy, uncharacteristic glaze that had covered it - to fix a smile on her features. Giving Jeannie's hand another squeeze, she then recovers both her hand and her poise to reply, "Yes, sorry. I just saw someone I..." Her features, thanks to those bedevilled hazel eyes, begin showing a rosy glow and, she fears, a smile that borders on the silly. Shaking her head, she returns to Jeannie. "Yes, I'm fine. Please reach me in care of the shuttle Hope. Its message system is operational. All right?" "excellent, I'll send you a message later today. And we'll take care of the details then." she bows slightly, "Thank you greatly your higness." she begins to turn away to leave, then turns back, "Its been a pleasure and an honor." she turns finally, her hair waving around, and she exits. Leia smiles wryly at Jeannie as she steps away then, bemusement suffusing the blush of her features, she glances back toward the rangy bearded fellow. Jeannie leaves the Black Nebula. Jeannie has left. Hazel eyes catch the redhead's turning away from the Princess, and their owner, stepping away from the booth occupied by the pair of stripe-furred aliens, weaves his way through smoke and shadow and other patrons towards the dark-haired woman. In a suspiciously false-sounding warbly tenor, lean face set in a deliberately guileless expression, the man in brown hails the Princess with, "Ah, um, excuse me, Your Highnessness, if I-I could just have a moment of your time, I was hoping I could get your autograph or, uh, or something..." Leia takes one step toward the lanky man so that a handspan separates them and, gazing up into his twinkling hazel eyes, she comments, "That is the ugliest beard I have ever seen in my life." If Han Solo is thrown off by his wife's greeting, his expression doesn't show it. Nor does he show any sign of his keen awareness that several of the denizens of the bar are still watching the Princess -- and him as well, now that he's approached her. His innocent demeanor segues, at least in the glint of his eyes and the sly curl of one end of his mouth, towards the devilish, as he rumbles softly down at Leia, "Does that mean I don't get the autograph?" "An autograph? No." Leia's fingers curl in the fabric of Solo's brown attire as she lifts her creamy features toward him, her smile blazing forth unbidden. At present she is both helpless and unwilling to stop or dim that grin, the one she wears only for the scoundrel who's wormed his way into her life and heart. Solo's arms go round the Princess's diminutive form, as he remarks blandly, "Darn. Guess I'll just have to settle for this." He dips his bearded face down towards Leia, intending to kiss her, only to be halted by the burst of approving noises from several half-drunken patrons along the bar and at the nearest tables. The Corellian lifts his head again slightly, and mutters, "Funny, I coulda sworn we were alone...." Leia's eyes had closed for the expected kiss and, when it doesn't come, she sighs expansively and glances at her husband with the air of a woman who's been cheated out of something she wanted ... and acutely so. The knowing grins and leers of the cantina's denizens douse her ardor and irritation enough for her to grouse, "Maybe we should take this elsewhere." "I'm open to ideas," Han murmurs down at his wife, keeping his voice pitched low, his eyes intent and warm on Leia's features. Leia detaches herself with palpable regret from Han's arms, catching his left hand in her right to murmur, "The Falcon and my shuttle are on Caspar." The brief look of relief in Solo's eyes at the mention of his ship is unmistakable, but he merely nods calmly, clasping the Princess's hand before lifting his arm up to drape it round her shoulders. Moving to escort her out of the bar, hazel gaze daring any sentient to try and stop them on their way out, he murmurs sidelong, "Is... ah... Chewie with you?" Leia nods, har arm slipping about the narrow musculature of his waist and hip while she answers sotto voce, "He's been in and out of the Falcon for a day or two. He's fine." You leave the Black Nebula. Level 4 -Eastern Concourse- You stand in the middle of a long corridor reaching from the center of the station out to the outer edge. Along the corridor a variety of businesses have shops open and flashy signs trying to draw you into their interiors. OOC Note: Type INSPECT/CONTENTS to see what else is here. -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- leads to Level 4 -StarShield Security Assessment-. Black Nebula leads to Level 4 -Black Nebula-. leads to Level 4 -Closed Business-. Coreward leads to Level 4 -Concourse-. Leia walks out of the Black Nebula. Leia has arrived. Solo's mouth is somewhat muted by the sunstreaked beard, but still, the slight sheepish smile can be noted by an eye as attentive as Leia's. "Good," he mutters gruffly, as the pair of them step out of the bar. Han's gaze remains alert as he escorts the Princess through the station's eastern concourse, and although his habitual blaster isn't currently riding where it ought to be on his thigh, he's walking as if he's armed anyway. Han, it would seem, is either tense or mistrustful of his whereabouts. "Han, we're on Kichnar, for heaven's sake," Leia admonishes patiently as she trails alongside Han, her small frame pressed against his far-taller one. "You don't have to feel compelled to act as if a Rancor is lurking around the corner." As she speaks she rolls her eyes to regard him, getting as her point of view the underside of his chin; this seems to be a perfectly acceptable vista to her thinking. "Just wanna make sure this visit stays friendlier than the last one," Han replies in an undertone, striding on out to the center of the level. You head coreward. Level 4 -Concourse- The main concourse of the KOS is the busiest part of the station. Wider than the rest of the station,this level is nearly half a mile in diameter. The center of the concourse is domed upward, with the turbolift tube rising up through the center. Spacers, traders, technicians and guards of countless races bustle through the concourse. Currently, sounds can be heard coming from the west, as if huge machinery was being brought to bare. An access panel leads off in that direction, and occasionally, crewmen, wearing anything from overalls to full vacuuum suits, can be seen coming and going. OOC Note: Type INSPECT/CONTENTS to see what else is here. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Galactic Bank ATM -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => IGNews Terminal - KOS => Caspar News Service - Kichnar Edition => Mail Terminal: Kichnar -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- Holonet Booth leads to Holo Booth. Edgeward North leads to Level 4 -Northern Concourse-. Edgeward South leads to Level 4 -Southern Concourse-. Edgeward East leads to Level 4 -Eastern Concourse-. TurboLift leads to Turbolift. Leia comes from the eastern concourse. Leia has arrived. Leia has no pat reponse or answer for that though, considering the manner in which she's studying every flicker of color in his hazel eyes, there is more than a slim chance she's lost track of the conversation again. After all, it's been more than two months. The Turbolift arrives and the doors open. Ozzle exits the turbolift. Ozzle has arrived. Ozzle steps out of the turbolift tubes; pausing nearby to glance about the concourse. Seemingly satisfied, he moves with the pedestrian traffic, making his way toward the northern wing. Escorting Leia towards that turbolift, Solo remains focused on scanning his surroundings as long as he's got the petite woman beside him. "Just a little twitchy," he rumbles softly to her, his voice pitched low. "Force of habit. Tell you more later." A quizzical expression passes through Leia's gaze, drawing her brows together for a millisecond, then, shrugging it off, she moves toward the turbolift with arm more firmly than before about Han's waist. As she and her husband approach the lift, however, her features arrange themselves again, this time displaying a modicum of surprise. Looking away from Han, she darts a glance this way and that, frowning with each passing second. Reaching for the lift controls with his free hand, his brown-clad arm still curled around Leia's slim shoulders, Solo frowns and murmurs down at her, "You alright?" Evidently oblivious to any of the concourse's activity, the darkly clad Sarian continues steadily coreward. After a few moments, he dissapears into the crowd. The Turbolift's doors close as it is moved to another level. The Turbolift arrives and the doors open. Rishar exits the turbolift. Rishar has arrived. Lanthazar exits the turbolift. Lanthazar has arrived. Rishar walks out after Lanthazar. he take up postion to the left and slightly behind him. He moves through the area silently scanning the crowd as he does so. Lanthazar steps out from the Turbolift with Rishar and two SAT guards following him. He stops as he notices the familiar face and begins to walk towards her.., Ozzle heads into the northern concourse. Ozzle has left. As Ozzle retreats into the throngs that seem ever-present in the orbital station's concourse and therefore away from most of her awareness, Leia pauses, frustration creeping into her frown, and mumbles, "I think so. Just something I felt. Nothing important. At least...nothing as important as this." A squeeze of the arm about Han's waist indicates of what precisely she is speaking. Han doesn't enter the lift, not yet, though he glances sideways as the nearest door opens up without his having requested it. Then he returns his hazel regard to his wife, frowning down lightly at her, not liking her distracted expression. "Hey," he murmurs, "you with me, Princess?" Briefly, it seems, Leia is indeed -not- with Han, for her focus follows the departure of Ozzle from the concourse. A double-blink of her eyes yanks her back to the here and now, however, and, with a brilliant smile that belies the confusion beneath the surface, she murmurs, "Right with you, scoundrel." When Leia finally speaks, Solo takes this in, smiling a little within the beard that's claimed his jawline at the squeeze of that delicate arm. His eyes, though, remain solemn, and he murmurs back to Leia, "Okay. Let's get out of here." And he turns round to the lift controls again, to punch open the door. Rishar walks through at a military pace with Lanthazar. He stops letting the group pass him. He stands still and waits for anyone that might be following him to appear. None do and he doubles his pace and again catches up with the group. Lanthazar walks to Leia motioning the guards to remainn back, a smile appears on his face when he gets there, "Good afternoon, Princess Leia. I hope you didn;t have aany problems on the Sandstorm.." Solo's attention immediately snaps to the being who's approached, hazel eyes narrowing. A brief glance down to the woman at his side relays to her a dark brow lifted in query; the brow stays up, as the Corellian eyes this newcomer. Lanthazar Lanthazar is a tall (around 7'), thin male humanoid. His skin color is very light, almost white. He has a thin head with four hornlike protrusions emerging from the top of his head. His ears are pointed with long black hair behind them. He has a somewhat tusked nose, which looks oddly on his thin face. His eyes are black, wide-set and a bit protruding. His mouth is thin and little. His voice is low toned and he speaks usually a bit faster than average. He is wearing a uniform that is dark Naval Blue and consists of a jacket which bears stripes and inisignias, underneath which is a white shirt and a black tie. The pants are creased perfectly and are Naval Blue as well. On the shoulderboards there are an anchor and 4 golden stars set in a circle that indicate him to be Fleet Admiral of the Griffon Navy. On the left breast pocket of the uniform is located a golden pin that displays the front of a large Dreadnaught class warship that has multitude of griffons flying escort of it. In the middle between the collars he wears the Griffons' Iron Star Medal. Above the left breast pocket are found 3 rows of various certification ribbons and 2 medals. The uniform also has a cap that is brimmed and has the standard Griffon shield and a pair of worlds in its clutches. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Protective Vest Rishar A medium sized young man in his early to late twenties stands before you. He has blue eyes and Blond hair. He stands about 5'9" and is in good physical shape. He is wearing a uniform that is a dark Naval blue and consists of a Jacket which bears stripes and insignia's, underneath which is a white shirt and a black tie. The pants are creased perfectly and are Naval Blue as well. On the sleeves of the Jacket are a series of 2 golden stripes on the sleeves and a golden star on the up side of the sleeve. It indicates him to be a Lieutenant in the Griffon Navy. On the left breast pocket of the uniform is located a golden pin that displays a pair of wings that sprout out from the center of a Supernova which is in laden with a black onyx center that has a pair of torpedoes streaming through creating an "X" and has a gold star at the center. Above the left breast pocket is found certification medals and certification ribbons that denote him as a: Starfighter Gunner, Starfighter Pilot, SAT Reserves, Navigator, and Freighter Pilot. Above that are the following medals: One is a gold star that has a amethyst gem fashioned into the center of the star. The other is a star that is made of a metal that has been colored Crimson. The uniform is completed by a standard garrison cap that is brimmed and has the standard Griffon shield and a pair of worlds in its clutches. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Light Armor => DY-255 Heavy Blaster Pistol Rishar stops with his boss and follows him over to the group and remains silent. He stands at full attention not saying a word. his eyes are foward, face rigid, feet 1 and a half feet apart and arms clasped at a 90 degree angle behind his back. "Oh...Admiral Maf'lorki, yes, thank you." Leia relinquishes her hold on Han (quite reluctantly, one might say) to tender more of her attention to the Griffon officer. "I'm in your debt." Sincere as those words may sound, the princess's voice quivers faintly: a nervous tremor. Uneasiness, much like guilt, is in the gaze she shoots toward Han. The Corellian maintains a fairly neutral expression, though he misses neither the tall sentient's title nor the manner of Leia's reaction to his approach. "Admiral," he says succintly by way of greeting, though lurking under his gravelly voice and behind his hazel regard is the rather more blatant demand of 'Who are you and how do you know my wife?' Lanthazar nods at Leia as he answers, "If we can help yo in anything else, feel free to ask. We have a common enemy now.." his smile slowly disappears as the recent events came into his mind, "Do you know if the New Republic Senate already have any 'offical' decision about the current situation?" Solo's other brow climbs to join its mate. Arranging his lean bearded features into an expression of overt curiosity, he shifts his gaze from the Admiral back to the Princess, looking rather like a fascinated spectator at a grav-ball match -- except that there's annoyance and worry glittering in his eyes, too. Leia, with a brief but welcoming look to Rishar, shakes her head regretfully at Lanthazar's question and, with an expansive, expressive sigh, murmurs, "I haven't been able to reach the council in a day, so I don't have an official answer yet. As for the common enemy, yes, we have that. I can't speak for the rest of the Senate or even the Inner Council, Admiral, but I'm going to do my best to make certain the New Republic's forces fight alongside your own until Pride-1 is in Griffon hands again." As this last bit is voiced, Leia slips her hand inside Han's, holding it against her side while her level gaze remains on the tall Griffon admiral. Rishar still stands at attention but relaxes a slight bit catching Leia's gaze. Until ordered otherwise like any good solider he follows his training to the letter. Lanthazar frowns as his gaze wanders to Han for a moment than back to Leia, "I hope I'm not holding you up. " He tries a smile as he continues, "I seem to have a bad habit of it.." _Pride-1 -back- in Griffon hands?_ The thought, and its obvious implications -- that that station _isn't_ currently in the possession of its lawful owners -- is quite easy to read in the expression of Han Solo. He grasps Leia's hand readily enough, though edgy, demanding curiosity dominates his expression now. On the other hand, when Lanthazar finally acknowledges his presence, the Corellian replies, deliberately blandly, "Oh, nah, don't mind me." Webb comes from the northern concourse. Webb has arrived. Taggor stands quietly along the exterior wall of the concourse with arms crossed over his chest. His eyes scan the area as individuals come and go. Alyndraya comes from the eastern concourse. Alyndraya has arrived. Leia comments to the lanky man whose hand she grips, "It was about a week ago, Han. I'm surprised word didn't reach you. I..." A throat clearing follows; Leia seems to proceed on conversational eggshells, tiptoeing with caution. "Admiral Maf'lorki and his ship the _Harbinger_ helped me escape. Oh, speaking of which," and here Leia surges forward, anxious for the change in subject, "Admiral, this is my husband, Han Solo, former General in the Republic Army. Han, Admiral Lanthazar Mar'lorki and...Rishar, isn't it? We've met once." Alyndraya shuffles quietly along the concourse weaving among the ebb and flow of pedestrian traffic. Taggor turns his glance over towards a small group, consisting of some Griffon officers. He remains in his position but stands up straight and unfolds his arms and puts his hands in his coat pockets. Rishar nods to Leia he head moves to face them both directly, "Yes Ma'am. I was the one that commanded the rescue operation to recover your shuttle ma'am." to Han_Solo "Sir it is an honor to meet you. I have heard many stories about your flight ability." he says with sincerity. Jeannie comes from the northern concourse. Jeannie has arrived. Han Solo's hazel eyes widen, and his gaze nails itself to his wife's delicate features on the word 'escape'. With what is very likely a mighty effort of diplomacy on the Corellian's part, he glances back at Lanthazar and Rishar, but it's more than apparent that most of his attention is on the Princess. "Hiya," he says brusquely in answer to the introduction, giving Rishar a somewhat distracted second glance and a muttered, "Thanks." Alyndraya's eyes flick over the small group as she passes by and turns to head north along the concourse. Lanthazar is standing with Leia, Han, Rishar, talking near the elevator.. Alyndraya heads into the northern concourse. Alyndraya has left. Leia is, she might note, resolutely -not- meeting Han's gaze. By Fate, or sheer Coincidence, the red headed news woman, nearly trips over a ranat, perhaps the same one that tripped her up previously in the black Nebula. Passing by the construction zone, the woman gets a couple whistles and cat calls her direction. Not distracted by the attention, she continues on toward the Bank terminal. Rishar simply nods to the General and reorientates his body to face the group more easily but remains in his former postion. Taggor notices the red-headed beauty and begins walking in her direction. His overcoat flows behind him as he steps quickly towards the bank terminal. Upon reaching his destination, Taggor stops and clears his throat. Lanthazar nods to Han rising an eyebrow, "It's a pleasure to meet you sir." He turns back to Leia and just looks at her for a few seconds as if trying to remember where did they left the conversation, "So, if everything is all right for you.." he pauses and switches to more quiet tone, "umm.. you still have no news about your brother?" Errach comes from the northern concourse. Errach has arrived. Han mutters out some sort of pleasantry in response to the Admiral, without having the slightest clue what he says. His grip on Leia's hand has tightened, and only Leia herself might detect the subtle tremor in her husband's fingers. His mouth drawing into a short, small line within his beard, the Corellian now focuses on keeping his mouth shut -- but he's visibly fuming. Errach stomps into the concourse, his unshod claws clicking and in some cases, scratching the floor beneath him. From his vantage point above the crowd, he surveys the mass of beings with calm indifference, hissing softly as his tongue occasionally flicks out to taste the air. Discomfiture at both Han's glaring temper and the alteration in topic wins a frown from Leia, who shakes her head tenatively at Lanthazar. "I have a lead or two, but nothing firm yet. Otherwise," she confesses wryly, "I wouldn't be here." Hearing the man clear her throat, she turns to look at Taggor, recognizing him slightly, she bows her head and says, "Can I help you?" Rishar continues to stand at attention. Saying nothing and being taugh well he shows no perceivable change in emotion to anyone. He eyes though have started to visually scan the crowd now that they have been imobile for so long and are with 'High Value Targets.' The Turbolift's doors close as it is moved to another level. The Turbolift arrives and the doors open. Ro'que exits the turbolift. Ro'que has arrived. Ro'que heads into the northern concourse. Ro'que has left. The Turbolift's doors close as it is moved to another level. If Solo's cognizant of the value riding on the heads of himself and his wife, he's not giving any sign of it. Still hanging onto Leia's hand, he flicks a hot, grudging stare from the Princess to the Admiral and back again, the very picture of a man poised on the edge of his temper. Lanthazar nods slowly his face turning into marble as he speaks, "Of course. I'm sorry Princess." He glances again at Han than back at Leia, "As I said.. if we can help in anything, feel free to ask.. I feel a bit guilty in his capture, as _they_ captured him at our.... at Pride-1." Hearing the man clear his throat, she turns to look at Taggor, recognizing him slightly, she bows her head and says, "Can I help you?" With a smile, Taggor says, "Remember me, honey?" He puts his hands back into his coat pockets and waits for an answer. "It wasn't your fault, Admiral, not at all," Leia hurries to say, placating Lanthazar how she may while her chestnut gaze bounces upward to Han's face. "Will you be on the Station long? My husband and I have some things to discuss that probably shouldn't wait." Unless, that is, you want the volcanic temper of the Corellian exploding all over the station. The red head smiles politley, and says in a shakey voice, "Not really." her face suddenly becomes flush, with embarrassment, as she eyes the man over. "i'm sorry" she pauses, "could you refresh my memory." Taggor nods with a smirk and says, "I didn't expect you would. You were pretty drunk. But heh! It happens to the best of us. The name is Tag, I let you rest of my ship and sober up. Any of this ring a bell?", in Basic. Lanthazar nods sharply, "Yes, I'll be around probably. You can find us at the Griffons Trade Embassy most of the time.. I hope we will meet again soon. " He turns to Han, "General.." , he nods again to Leia than slowly turns to leave.. His features stonily composed, his hazel eyes twin sparks of fire, Solo nevertheless manages a curt return nod to Lanthazar, while reaching over to slap the controls of the lift, still within the reach of his long arm. "Admiral," he replies, then promptly wheels round to move his hand from Leia's up to her elbow. You press the elevator call button. The Turbolift arrives and the doors open. Webb emerges from the crowd of beings that continuously flows through the concourse. He pauses for a moment and peers for a moment, before he darts towards the turbolift only to find that there's already a fair-sized crowd waiting before it. Leia flashes a final departing smile to Rishar, gratitude the counterpoint to any stress she may feel thanks to Han's grip. Once the lift has arrived, she and the fuming Corellian vanish from public sight. Someone glimpsing her husband's features may feel sorry for her; yes indeed, he's peeved. Leia enters the Elevator. Leia has left. And when the lift arrives, Solo wastes no time in escorting the Princess through the opening doors. Just before he and the small woman beside him vanish into the lift, Han's gravelly voice can be heard bellowing, "ESCAPE?!" You enter the Elevator. Turbolift -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Leia => Turbolift Control Panel(#5772L) -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- Out leads to Level 4 -Concourse-. Leia presses the button for Level 5, staring at the controls as if they hold a galaxy's worth of fascination for her. "We're going to the Falcon, I assume?" Did he speak a moment ago? Naw. The Turbolift doors close. The Turbolift begins to pick up speed. The doors swiftly open. The Turbolift has stopped at Level 3 -Residential Level-. Venus comes into the elevator. Venus has arrived. You choose level '5' from the Turbolift Control Panel. The Turbolift doors close. The Turbolift begins to pick up speed. The doors swiftly open. The Turbolift has stopped at Level 5 -Transportation Hub-. You leave the turbolift. Level 5 -Transportation Hub- -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Tajan => NOTIFICATION -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- Public Hangar leads to Level 5 -Public Hangar-. Griffon Hangar leads to Level 5 -Griffon Hangar-. Nycad Hangar leads to Level 5 -Nycad Hangar-. TurboLift leads to Turbolift. Private Hangar leads to Level 5 -Private Hangar-. Leia exits the turbolift. Leia has arrived. Venus exits the turbolift. Venus has arrived. Venus gasps on seeing Leia and Han_Solo. As he escorts his wife off the lift, his hand snaking out to grasp Leia's elbow so he can haul her along beside him -- never mind that he's hardly respecting royal dignity at the pace he's dragging her -- the clearly fuming Corellian barks out, "No," in reply to the Princess's question. "Come on." The Turbolift's doors close as it is moved to another level. You go through the airlock to the hangar. Level 5 -Public Hangar- The Kichnar Station landing pad is built into the fifth level of the station. Wedge-shaped, it takes up about a quarter of the largest level on the Kichnar Orbital Station. Various ship maintenance and repair equiptment lines the walls. A set of hydrospanners lie errantly on the floor. A fusion generator supply tank stands at ready to fuel ships. An airlock leads to the transportation hub of the station. Signs of construction can be seen all around the hangar, as workers continue to move bulkheads to finish the construction of this huge hangar. Portions of some of the walls are of different color, obviously moved from other sections of this space station. The repulsar fields used for the ship entry area are portable, temporary units, positioned at each side and being run manually by several crewman. The large, permanent unit can be seen being brought into line at the rear of the hangar, with a dozen other crewman in gray jumpsuits working dilligently on that project. The whole hangar, while functional, is cramped with all the construction. OOC Note: Type INSPECT/CONTENTS to see what else is here. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Economic Presence -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => CAPITAL: AEC Modular -- Windrunner(#7311LXz) => STARFIGHTER: CEC YT-2400 -- Comet's Tail => STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Typhos => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Wanderer Mk II -- CCS Keramisk => STARFIGHTER: Ghtroc Class 720 Freighter -- Chui Ieusi => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- Starry Ice => STARFIGHTER: Yacht Lady Luck => STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Ziggurat => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- Crimson Dusk => STARFIGHTER: Sardakh Kale-1 -- Vrii Olumdar => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- CCS Caledonia => STARFIGHTER: Koensayr BTL-S3 Y-wing -- Huntsman => CAPITAL: Sienar Fleet Systems GAT-12j Skipray -- Eviscerator => STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Summoner => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Wanderer Mk II -- CCS Ceylon => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Wanderer Mk II -- Dauntless => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- CFS Frunze => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- Quasar Bolt => STARFIGHTER: Ghtroc Class 720 Freighter -- Caesar's Ghost => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- CFS Kresta => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Wanderer Mk II -- CFS Windancer => starport computer => Transport Panel -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- oreward leads to Level 5 -Transportation Hub-. Leia enters from coreward. Leia has arrived. "Some of us," Leia pants as she hustles to keep up with Han's distinctly longer legs, "aren't as tall as others of us." When that doesn't work, "Slow the hell down, Han." Han indeed does not slow on the first comment, but hearing Leia curse not only slows him, it gets him to stop, whirl around, and grasp the Princess's shoulders in both his hands. Hazel gaze raking in fierce concern over the bruises on her cheeks, he demands roughly, "Escape?" Painfully aware of why Han is so blatantly irate, Leia rests her hands on his waist and soothes, "I'm all right, Han. I'm all right. It wasn't anything serious, not really. Most of this came from a fall I took." That wasn't what he wanted to hear, he thinks. Well, okay, _fine_, he _did_ want Leia's voice assuring him of her welfare -- seven hells, he just wanted to hear her voice. His expression relaxes... slightly... and he crushes Leia to his chest for a moment, arms curling around her as if he intends to protect her not only from any and all dangers on the station, but out in the surrounding quadrant as well. Then he flashes a still irate glance around the Hangar and rasps, "Let's get the hells outta here before we're ambushed by officers, reporters, bounty hunters, or people who want to tell me what a fantastic pilot I am." "In a moment." A point seems to need making, and, hand weaseling its way up to his neck, Leia presses on the back of his head until their lips can join. Presumably the princess has waited more than enough time to luxuriate in a kiss of greeting with her mate, and the public locale be damned; she's going to kiss him. Jeannie enters from coreward. Jeannie has arrived. Jeannie walks out the airlock to the station. Jeannie has left. Han starts, but his arms are still wrapped around his wife, and the moment she tugs his head down to her, he crushes her to him once more. For all that he's grown a beard along the lower half of his face, adding a silken sort of roughness to his jaw, his kiss hasn't changed. Full of ardor and pent-up worry and other emotions, it provides Han with a release valve for what has undoubtedly been roiling through his head all the way here. Vexa comes in from the Windrunner Vexa has arrived. Leia and Han are standing midway to the landing pad for the system shuttle but entirely oblivious to everything short of the system's sun going supernova thanks to their kiss. Who knows? They may presently be thinking the sun's going supernova. Vexa steps quietly down the ramp of the Windrunner. She pauses quietly at the base to rearrange her poncho and to pull her wet braids over her shoulder. After a moment's thought and looking around, she starts coreward. Vexa walks out the airlock to the station. Vexa has left. Fingers tightening in the tidy, sunshot brownness of Han's hair, Leia submits to the embrace for nearly a full minute until catcalls from a trio of pilots grounds her. A blush, deep as any he has espied in her cheeks, flares bright red while she steps back and stammers, "Shuttle?" Meileani walks down the ramp of the Ziggurat. Meileani has arrived. With a few light steps, Meileani emerges from the _Ziggurat_, whistling slightly as she checks over a few of the hydraulics. "Buggy little things..." As he finally lifts his head to peer down into Leia's face, Solo's own visage has relaxed enough to allow a slight crooked grin to curl his mouth. "Shuttle," he agrees huskily, still not letting go of the Princess. Leia urges Han to accompany her to the Olumekar's landing, where she presses the call button. Her lips have curled upward in a soft, sweet smile that is fully echoed in her eyes; nothing else on Kichnar exists...including those leering pilots. The Olumekar comes in for a landing and powers down it's engines. You walk up the ramp and find a seat. SHUTTLE: CSS Olumekar Leia walks up the ramp and takes a seat. Warning klaxons sound as the boarding hatch closes. The sound of roaring engines can be distantly heard. The sound of the engines slowly fade away. The boarding hatch opens letting in the fresh Caspian air. Grinning faintly now, though his eyes are still glimmering with a tangle of sentiments, Han hangs onto his wife as the two of them ride the shuttle down to the planet. And he keeps an arm around her as he accompanies her out of the shuttle. You walk down the ramp and clear of the shuttle. Landing Pad - Union Starport -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Economic Presence -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => SHUTTLE: CSS Olumekar => STARFIGHTER: Sardakh Kale-1 -- Banshee => STARFIGHTER: Sardakh Kale-1 -- Firedancer => STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Millenium Falcon => STARFIGHTER: Sienar Lambda Class Shuttle -- Hope => STARFIGHTER: Sienar Lambda Class Shuttle -- CFS Armistice => SQUAD: Caspar Guards - 6799 => STARFIGHTER: Sienar GAT-12j Skipray Blastboat -- CSAV Creditor => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Wanderer Mk II -- Flight of Fancy => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- CFS Kalinin => starport computer => Transport Panel -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- est leads to Concourse - Union Starport. Leia walks down the ramp of the Olumekar. Leia has arrived. Leia remains at Han's side, arm about his waist again, her smile irrepressible. A touch of shyness lends her gaze the need to focus away from her husband, but all in all she is delighted, simply and entirely delighted, to be where she is. And with whom she is there. If there's anything in the world that could brighten Han's expression any further, it's the battered form of the _Millenium Falcon_ here on Caspar. His gaze warming anew, he impulsively turns to scoop the Princess up into his arms, ignoring any protests, and striding with her towards his freighter. Han_Solo enters in a code and enters STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Millenium Falcon Main Ring Corridor (Starboard)(#678RntJ) -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Threepio -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- ft leads to Bunk Room.

ort leads to Cargo Hold. ore leads to Cockpit. tarboard leads to Landing Pad - Union Starport. Han_Solo enters Main Ring Corridor (Starboard) Leia has arrived. Leia enters Main Ring Corridor (Starboard) "Han!" The laughing syllable of protestation is token, just as he expected it would be, but suffusing that laugh and, indeed, her entire being is joy: the joy she receives only in his arms. Period. End of sentence. Up the ramp, free a hand long enough to punch in the appropriate security codes, and grin like an idiot as the ship obeys his commands and pops open the hatch for him. His wife borne up in his arms, the Corellian strides into the ship, and grins down into her eyes. But he doesn't stop, as he heads straight for the bunk room, the nearest source of a horizontal soft space to curl up with his Princess. Leia bleats, "Watch the crossbeam!" as she ducks to avoid getting beaned, but, again, her complaints are couched in laughter. And she holds onto her former smuggler for dear life. Intimately familiar with every bulkhead on the _Falcon_, the Corellian deftly avoids bumping his burden into anything, as well as his toes. In, then, to the bunk room, his stride swift and sure. You head aft around the ring into the bunk room. Bunk Room(#5165Rnt) A cramped little nook sandwiched in among the engine room, maintenance areas, and other sections of the aft half of the _Falcon_, this room sports enough bunks to accommodate a small number of passengers. Along the back wall are a bank of tiny lockers to stow personal gear, a catering facility, and a door leading off into a refresher. -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- ore leads to Main Ring Corridor (Starboard). Leia steps in from the corridor. Leia has arrived. Leia sighs expansively. The room is hardly their quarters on Calamari, but currently anywhere that involves Han and his embrace is home to her. Nirvana, even. As he ducks them into the nook, she bends her head downward so, as long as her face is down that way anyways, she nuzzles him tenderly. Only now does Han stop, placing Leia down on her feet, though his arms remain wrapped around her slender form. Looking down at her once more, his eyes glimmering, he just stands there a few moments. And lifts a hand to stroke the tip of a thumb along her bruised cheek, then up to smooth her hair. Leia winds one arm about his neck, the other about his waist, and, as she peruses his irritatingly perfect features (if you excuse that scar on his chin), she whispers, "Oh, Han...I -missed- you." The scar across Han's chin is currently hidden beneath the beard, leaving only suntanned, wind-weathered planes and lines to his face, and the hazel eyes under hair that, despite its shorter than usual cut, has still managed to get itself rumpled somehow. His face gentles at Leia's scrutiny, and there's a flash of something strange across his eyes for a moment -- awkwardness, almost. "Makes two of us," he murmurs, then adds in a roughening voice, "Tell me what else I've missed, Princess." "Well," she begins tenatively, half-drowning in the hazel glimmer that she finds so hypnotic, "Pride-1 is entirely overrun by the Empire, Lando's here somewhere..." Her voice softens as she traces his jaw beneath the downy brown of his beard, "And Luke is still with the Empire...we don't know where. We're working on it, though. We're working on it." Her voice and gaze falter; even without Force sensitivity Han could barely miss the wave of guilt and grief his wife experiences when thinking of her beloved brother in Imperial clutches. Han doesn't miss that guilt crossing Leia's features, no; indeed, there's more than a little guilt of his own bringing that uncharacteristic awkward set to his features. Not sure which he can bear less -- the pain in his wife's expression, or the thought that she might see the pain he suspects lingers in his own -- Han pulls her to him again. This time his embrace is gentler, cradling rather than urgent. "I'll help," he rasps out softly. Leia closes her eyes, sinking into Han's arms with more relief and need than she cares to experience before anyone, even him. Thousands of images hammer her brain, frenzied and frenetic and desperate worries and concerns and frights that center around Luke, but, in the end, only one solid thought exists, eclipsing the others. Han is here. Everything, therefore, -will- be all right. What can't they conquer together? "Just...hold me," she requests, lips to his chest. Like as not, she is as reluctant to see his pain as he is for her to see him express it. He nods without speaking, arms squeezing protectively closer around royal shoulderblades. Han's own head is full of ungainly emotions; the Corellian considers them, and finally shoves them to the back of his head, where they can't distract him from Leia's small, warm form pressed against him. Adrift as he's been the last several months, she is an anchor, and it is now vitally important to him that he be an anchor for her in return. Stoic of eye now, Han rests his cheek against the very top of his beloved's head, to add that contact to the circle of his arms. Leia wants to talk to him, wants to discover where he's been and what he's been doing in the months they've been apart...months? It feels like years. But she finds herself tonguetied by the sweeping emotions that this sharing of warmth, of comfort, and of love generates within her. A sigh escapes her as she settles against him, letting their strengths meld to force a support strong enough to bear them both through the nightmare of Luke's capture...and all of the other instances of bad luck or bad timing. Han holds Leia, and works on just trying not to think of anything in particular, but the emotions he's trying to ignore are proving stronger than he'd like. His voice low and edged with guilt, the Corellian murmurs into the Princess's hair, "I... shoulda been here. Before..." Leia's head lifts off of Han's chest with alacrity, her free hand curving around his face. "We can't be everywhere, Han," she states stridently. "If I'm not blaming myself, then you're not either. Deal?" He's not exactly sure whether he wanted to hear that; it doesn't exactly soothe him. But then, it doesn't exactly _not_ soothe him, either. A ghost of his usual lopsided grin flickers across Han's mouth, and as he meets the Princess's gaze, he can't help but rumble back huskily, "Okay... deal." Smiling, Leia murmurs, "You asked what else you missed, hmm? Well, did you miss this?" And in the tiny confines of the cot room the princess kisses the scoundrel; something about embracing within the Falcon's steel environs is so poignant because she never fails to remember that first kiss. Her arms tighten about him again, her intent to will the world away. For Luke she can do nothing, for the Republic she can only fret; has she not earned a respite from her workaholic days? She thinks so. A surge of need, of yearning, is Han's initial startled reaction; a split second later, though, he's tightened his embrace, and is hungrily answering the kiss bestowed upon him. When he finally comes up for air his eyes have darkened, and his voice shakes ever so slightly, betraying his attempted casual murmur: "Yeah, Highnessness... maybe a little..." Leia loosens her hand from within Han's hair to reach behind her for the door mechanism, blindly slapping this way and that until the lock is engaged. "You really are difficult," she whispers against his skin as she bestows a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I am," Han rasps, beginning to lathe replying kisses over his wife's face and jaw, "I really am." He drops one arm lower, to the curve of Leia's hips. Oblivious to the securing of the door, he has found his mate's sudden ardor far more worthy of his attention. How can she express what she is feeling, what amazing, sweeping emotions soar through her when words fail and, in any event, she is hard-pressed to remain standing, let alone speak? She offers herself to him, desperate to be with him, desperate to have him with her, certain that rejection at this point would literally slay her. Fortunately she has faith that the chances of rejection are astronomically small. Rejection, to be sure, is the farthest thing from the mind of Han. His lips roam over every detail of her features, then press against her throat and her brow and her hair, only to swerve unerringly back to her lips to claim them once more as his. His hands aren't idle, either, roving over garb of green and brown and the curves beneath. And he stoops, pulling Leia once more up into his arms, to cross the small distance to the nearest bunk, to sit, Princess in his lap, and to kiss her with enough fervor to suggest that every atom of his being is attuned to no other purpose but this. [End log.]