Chapter 1: The So-Called Friends of Marko

   
Mara Aragone, Zeltron Female Noble

~ Crew Compartment Deck: Stateroom 5 ~


Mara looks down the hallway left and right before approaching the door, switching her pistol to her left hand with the clutch handbag cradled in her bent elbow against her side. Stepping closer to Luka, she gives him an appreciative smile and a gentle caressing stroke of his cheek with her right hand, “Thank you, Luka.”

Leaving him be to stand watch, she palms the pressure plate of the biometric lock and her stateroom door whooshes open. Entering, the other two catch a glimpse of a room that has only a few of her belongings visible, the place is fairly neat and tidy. Her luggage and clothes are stowed properly. She sets the handbag and pistol on the desk.

Mara opens up a compartment door and removes her utility belt and the holster, swinging the end around her narrow waist to fall jauntily on curvy hips as she fastened the clasp in the front. The belt actually complements her outfit and the black matches in color to the trim and boots of her outfit. She holsters the pulse wave pistol.

Opening the closet, she pulls out the faux spacer jacket that matches the body suit. It is a smaller top, not meant to be closed in the front and the sleeves are only three quarter length, but it covers her shoulders and runs only down as far as the small of her back. The small jacket does nothing to hide her bosom at all. She flips her hair with the backs of her hands, the splayed fingers combing through the locks, to make sure it is all outside of the collar.

Reaching back into her equipment compartment, she pulls out the rest of her grenades and fills her handbag. The Zeltron woman looks to be sure all of her cosmetic essentials are still in there as well, guessing she will need them when she has time. Grabbing a hair brush, she puts it inside the clutch as well and swipes the fastener closed.

Turning to examine herself in the mirror from the side, Mara continues to twirls all the way around to check her appearance front, back, and sides. Despite being a designer label, the complete outfit has a fashionable while still being functional look.

She nods to herself and rejoins the others once more.

“I am ready to go now.” She has her handbag cradled in her left arm again, but leaves her pistol holstered.
I left the door open/closed as ambiguous in case either of you wanted to enter or have the door propped open to watch.
OOC



Oln's gun-ho attitude certainly matched everything he knew about the Mandalorians, but his lightheartedness was something altogether different. Guffawing when Oln made mention he might eat his child, the Trianii almost stumbled forward, physically jolted by the joke. Knowing his sense of humor was often diluted, he caught himself before he over reacted, no need in making a scene of an offhand joke.

Taking the blaster from Oln, Kat had to admire the man for the family he had scrapped together. Few people on this station seemed genuinely happy, and it was refreshing to see a functional family that represented the future of the galaxy. Especially so when a war that was seemingly rooted in a millennial old conflict threatened to tear the galaxy apart.

"I am ready. Thank you for the kind words, Vallia Vizlsa. I will insure your husband returns safely, so that we may enjoy a few drinks together." Tail flicking back and forth, Katjur's eyes hovered over the woman and child as he gave the two a polite nod of his head, the closest he came to bowing or hugging when acting naturally.

Luka Vorr, Male Human Scoundrel

Destiny's Rest: Crew Compartment Stateroom 5

Luka nodded.

Ms. Aragone had dressed with a purposefulness and practicality that surprised him a little. She was not strictly the pampered princess of a trade conglomerate who needed local security to look after her. It made sense, since she was used to traveling alone. A person naturally came to have a certain sort of internal resilience that came with independence.

She reminded him, in some ways, of Hari. Luka pushed the thought aside.

“Let’s get to the security hangar. We’ll go the same way we came.”

He nodded to Lieutenant Ganner, and they left.
Character Sheet

Cyrian Darkstar - Security Hanger



Cyrian gets to work on the fighters starting with a visual inspection and then checking self diagnostics. He determines which one he could get in working order the fastest. He grabs a tool bin and drags it over. Cracking the engine housing open he gets to work. He works calmly and efficiently showing that he has in fact been doing this kind of thing for years.

"Stang!

He pops his head out of the compartment long enough to shout

"Hey do you have a replacement power coupling around here somewhere? This one is severely corroded and could have failed at any time."

Mara Aragone, Zeltron Female Noble

~ Crew Compartment Deck: Stateroom 5 -> Security Hangar ~


Mara noticed as Luka appraised her outfit and attire, she sensed some approval and an errant thought of attraction that he quickly tried to suppress. At least that is what she thought it felt like. Inwardly she smiled.

Not really needing or feeling like having an escort now, this was no longer some strolling tour of the station, she makes no move to take either person's arm. Stress levels were higher, she can feel the apprehension and even traces of fear creeping into the emotions of her companions, the same as she is feeling. Focusing on actually taking actions has kept them all from considering they really don’t know yet what has happened.

Gesturing for Luka to lead the way, Mara nods in agreement, “Sounds like a prudent course to take. We are right behind you.” She smiles encouragingly.

Back into the unpolished and normally unseen maintenance corridors and service passages they go, coming out at the turbolift hub. Taking the lift to the hangar bay deck, Mara and Charlene are right behind Luka as they enter the Security Hangar.

There is an older man, rugged looking with his posture tense. The scene through the massive energy field between the interior and the vacuum of space is like a window into chaos. The drifting ships precariously out of control. There is lone man, almost a boy crawling around one of the fighters.

Stating the obvious, Mara blurts softly, “It wasn’t just those of us inside the station, then. Even the ships around us were affected. I think we were attacked.” The Zeltron woman doesn’t appear to be frightened by the prospect, there is a spark of fire in her eyes.

Oln Vizsla - Mando'ade/Miralukan Male Scoundrel

~ Destiny's rest - Security Hanger~

"...telling you hide your cred chip. He'll suck 'em out like your damn marrow if he catches a sniff." Oln is easily heard before either of the pair is seen entering the hanger. Now that he's sure of his child's safety he clearly doesn't think stealth is a concern.

Entering shortly after Luka and company from another entry to the hanger, Oln quickly counts heads. "Charm and Lizz had better be okay with that droid." Is the first thing he says when they enter, only loud enough for Kat to hear. He makes his way to the crowd giving a little solute to Luka. Once he's close enough he takes a closer look over Luka's friends. He reaches up and flicks on his suits life support. He makes note that he owes Zeth a drink, not sure he would have connected what the too perfect one was otherwise. He didn't have anything against her but she would be making her impression without messing with his mind.

"Vod, one on each arm? I don't think Hari would approve." His voice clearly carries his joking intent of the comment. When he speaks again his voice is slightly more serious. He knows Luka will ask so he volunteers it, "They are both fine. Whoever this was didn't hit our residential section."

He then turns to his father in law. "So who have we pissed off today Marko? Since we aren't dead by saber or blaster this isn't the Sith or Republic, yet. Well whoever it is never fear the hero is here to save the day."

For the two ladies yet to meet Oln remember he has a flight suit pained to look slightly Mando. He's also wearing his helmet so his face is hidden. Do what you will with this.
OoC
Character Sheet

Luka Vorr, Male Human Scoundrel

Destiny's Rest: Security Hangar

Luka pressed his lips together and glanced self-consciously at the women on either side of him, but pushed the reaction away a moment later. He knew Oln’s teasing for what it was, even if the helmet hid his face and expression, and the speaker had flattened his tone.

Far more important was the news Oln had conveyed about Vallia and Contesa. He knew without having to ask that it would be the first thing on Luka’s mind as soon as he saw the Mando.

Luka knew Oln’s word was good, and that if Luka’s sister and niece were not actually safe, Oln would not answered Marko’s summons at all. That was one thing Luka knew and respected about Oln: his utter commitment to his family above himself or any material concern. That was part of his heritage as a Mandalorian.

“Thanks,” he murmured to Oln, almost in a subvocal tone, knowing that a subtle nod might be lost, given the way Miraluka perceived the world, at least as Luka understood it.

Luka had avoided looking at his father too much the moment they’d entered the hangar. He could feel a pressure in his chest steadily increasing like a plugged valve. There were words on Luka’s tongue that wanted to come out, but he had managed to hold them back so far. Now he leveled his gaze on Marko, his face a mask, impassive. It was reminiscent of the cold, silent looks that his mother would fix on Marko, her expression conveying much more than heated words.

“Yeah, Dad,” he said, and his own voice sounded remote in his ears. “It sounds like you have a good idea about what’s just happened. I think we need to hear it.”
Character Sheet



For the most par, Kat was content to listen to Oln as they walked, giving the occasional shake of his head or growl of approval. Multitasking was not one of his skills, and when the big Trianii entered into a state of high alert, ready for actions, he tended to quiet up considerably, becoming more and more predatory in manner.

When Oln expressed his reservations about the other three, Kat felt a pang of regret for not going with them. They were, almost assuredly, fine. Just running a bit late. But in these situations, disaster had a funny way of enfolding, striking when you least expected it.

"Katjur Kiljarr." Voice rumbling in his low baritone, the Trianii eyed Luka and the two women who accompanied him. He knew of Marko's son, just like he knew of Marko, but had never officially met either of them, beyond perhaps passing them in the halls and any initial inspections performed when he had first arrived.

He was curios of how Marko would respond to his sons question, and even more curious to how Oln and the others would react.


Mara Aragone, Zeltron Female Noble

~ Security Hangar ~


Mara has not been hanging on anyone’s arm, maintaining a more professional demeanor as the situation has become more serious. She glances up as the security staff arrive and once more quip about Luka’s potential trists with women, not really being serious, just teasing the man.

She looks askance at Luka with an eyebrow raised at the mention of Hari and her, presumably a female, disapproval of the company he is keeping.

Turning back to the other arrivals, Mara gives them both a polite smile in greeting. Not a bright one to light up the hangar bay, but softer given the seriousness of the situation. The armored man looks the part and carries himself confident enough. The large Trianii looks like a tough customer as well, but a species she is not very familiar with at all. Though, he does look cuddly in a way, strong furry arms that could wrap around you like a warm blanket. And, a tongue that could... She acknowledges the introduction, “A pleasure. Mara.”

Then she looks away, to give Marko her attention. Despite the joking of the men, Mara is still holding the clutch cradled in her arm and her right hand tucks an errant lock of long brown hair back over her ear once more. Her stance is poised, thighs together, left foot in front of the other, knee slightly bent as her feet are pointed 45 degrees apart.

She places the free hand on her hip, above the holstered pulse wave pistol and tilts her head to the side slightly. Her stance betrays none of the apprehension that she feels at wondering what it is that she can do to help in this situation. She mentally pushes it aside, determined that she will think of something.

“I am sure there is something we need to be doing to help.” She prompts with an inquistive expression.

Cali, satisfied with Ossek's summary of the situation, as well as the readings on the terminal, silently nods as she falls in behind her two escorts.





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