Ask End Of The Line

[Marric Cartanda]

TERMINUS
OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
​

The Solarbeam had been stationary for almost twelve hours now.

Hunkered down within its hangar bay, plumes of blackened steam venting from its aft exhaust, the luxury liner had certainly seen better days. Six hours prior the vessel had been relieved of its remaining passengers, while the crew got to work readying it for another influx of travelers wishing to pass along the Corellian Trade Spine and into more... civilized sectors. Word had spread that the ship would not be mobile again for at least a few days, which left many with an unusual opportunity; with no work left to do, and time to burn, there was a whole world before them to explore.

After months in space, zipping back and forth along hyperspace lanes and lost to the monotony of work, Marric found himself among those seizing the moment. Though he had no credits of his own to speak of, in that he worked for the roof over his head, Tor had tossed him a chit as well as a small list of items the engineer was in need of, and told to do as he pleased with the rest.

Marric did not need to be told twice.

He donned his outer wear, consisting of an insulated coat which sat over his crew uniform, and hurried down the boarding ramp before anyone could change their mind. Though the air outside was hardly what one would call clean, the abundance of starships passing overhead no doubt partly to blame, he breathed it all in regardless and put his legs to work.

His dash of freedom did not last as long as he would have liked, however; soon enough he was slowed as he joined a long line of individuals hoping to pass from the spaceport and into the City proper. His heart raced, before an unseen hand closed around it and squeezed, as he patted down his pockets in search of his identification. Already the line continued on behind him, around him, enclosing him in and pushing him on.

As though they did not see him, or simply chose to overlook his presence, he felt them press against him until it seemed like all the air was sucked from his immediate vicinity. Torn between wishing that time would slow so that he could find the papers, and hoping that he'd reach the front of the line swiftly, Marric resigned himself with simply going with the flow.

@TWD26

 

[Oren Zapan]

To say things had been rough the last few months would be an understatement. First there was the incident on Utapau that cost him his arm, along with the reality that his Master had been involved in an array of shady dealings in the past. Then there was the revelation of the new Sith who were lurking in every corner of the galaxy, the Jedi as a whole had been painted by these dark forces as killers that could not be trusted.

It wasn't safe for anyone out here, and the order as a whole was stuck in a crucial crossroads that would define what happened to their organization. Oren wasn't going to let things fall apart now, not while he worked so hard to build up his students and their lives. He was going to get to the bottom of what was going on, even if it meant traveling to every nook and cranny in the galaxy. And so he found himself on the planet of Terminus, posed as a smuggler, with a gold synth hide jacket and a pair of black and gold trimmed pants. He looked like a scumbag, but it helped to blend in--maybe a bit too much.

"We can't let you park your ship here sir," the Spaceport official would say in a dry tone, "Without the proper clearance level you're going to have to move this ship to the other side of town until you get that clearance code shipped in."

"Come on now, you can't cut me just a simple break..." Oren would point towards his chest, "I got a big shipment I need to make to Nusro The Hutt...and he's not gonna like sending his men twelve klicks out just to get it." He would say with a sigh, playing up the situation. This was a hindrance, but possibly he could make it work.

tag: @AesSedai

 

[Marric Cartanda]

Though it took no more than five minutes for Marric to be herded to the front of the line, for the boy it was an eternity of claustrophobic suffocation. He pushed back against the bystanders at his side, though his slight form did little to alert them much less gain any ground, he tried to squeeze past them; heck, at this point he might even have been fine with going back to the end of the line if it meant he could take a breather. All to no avail.

"You're... squishing.... me..." he proclaimed on more than one occasion, his voice lost to the general din of the spaceport. Nobody turned their heads, nobody seemed to notice, and by the time he resurfaced on the other end, customs droid and watchful Bothan officer looking at him expectantly, his skin was coated in a thin sheen of sweat, cheeks flushed.

After drinking in all the stale air he was afforded, he approached the droid and offered out the identification card he'd been scrambling to find. The next few seconds were pure agony as he looked between the two of them and anxiously waited to see if he'd be permitted to pass. Finally the droid chirped a response, though the Bothan didn't bother to translate immediately. Instead he continued to stare at the boy, expression unreadable. Then he scanned the crowd, and Marric knew exactly what he was searching for.

"My folks are back on the ship," he blurted out before he could logically think the matter through, "Just grabbing a few supplies, then we'll be back on our way..."

The droid chirped once more, before handing him back his card. Without a word the Bothan waved him along, though he could feel his gaze on his back for a few lingering seconds as he hurried on through the remainder of the spaceport and out into the bustling city beyond.

He didn't stop until he rounded his second corner, just a stones throw from the port itself, but when he did he slumped back against a wall and let out a long breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His thoughts drifted back to the ship, to the safety of his bunk; perhaps there was a reason Tor had been so reluctant to let him explore before now.

Even so, he couldn't throw in the towel. Not yet. He'd never live it down, he doubted he'd be allowed free reign for years to come if he botched this venture.

Another minute, he decided, and then he'd be back on his way to finding everything on Tor's list.

@TWD26

 

[Oren Zapan]

"Beep-broop..troot-dee" R2's rusting head spun in circles, bouncing with anticipation.

"Oh will you cut it out," Oren would huff as Oren looked at the run down ship port he was forced to dock in. "You keep blabbing and I'll sell you to those Jawas back on Quesh," he'd chuckle a bit visions of a sea of Jawa came back to him. That was a good day, wasn't it? But today was turning out to be anything but nice, and he was going to be lucky if his YT-1300 was even still here when he made it back.

The stench of the desolate port smelled of urine and and stale ship coolant and the walls were covered in graffiti and gunk. It was bad, but luckily for him, he wasn't planning on spending time in the port, he needed to hightail it to the other side of the city and get to his contact who swore he had information on these supposed darksiders who were rolling through the galaxy.

He would quickly flag down a landspeeder, "Tunkar's Shopping district." He would say in a firm voice. The astromech that controlled the speeder simply beeped and began to descend down the packed streets. Alright Oren, get in and get out...let's not have anymore of our adventures.

tag: @AesSedai