Oh? You Don't Say.

[Xenia Nastassia]

Mid Rim;
Mytaranor Sector;
Near Kashyyyk Space.

<<M'lady, I am detecting undesirable levels of adrenaline and ss-->>
"-- Detox, you're one step from deactivation."

The very tip of her gun was still smoking, a shattered and frizzing droid crumpled up against the back wall across from her. As Detox spoke its audio emitter obviously went through a tone transfer, uploading gradually until it was something new altogether. Following this, the holo projection units quickly cloaked it in the image of a young looking, seemingly nondescript twi'lek nurse- a female, with blue skin and round, purple eyes. Xenia's face wasn't friendly, not even in addressing her own droid, one half of it covered in medical equipment. A small bacta pad was attached to her injured eye, and bandaging covered the other half. The result, a little more than one third of a face brilliantly painted in black and white nubian war fashion. Blasters had burnt her war gown black in many areas, as well as an assortment of other stains and damage. Otherwise, it was relatively intact, the layered dress holding together and pulling tight just above the waist.

<<That would almost certainly be a poor choice on your behalf.>>
"I know I know- shut up, just let me--"

It took about three seconds for her to snap out of the glare and withdraw her weapon once more. The droid who'd been her victim, some kind of service function protocol, didn't seem to be completely, well, dead? That is to say, the lights behind its photoreceptors were still functional, and it was clear it retained some ability to yet move its left arm. Xenia's eyes raised to Detox, who seemed clueless of whatever moral debate the human was undergoing.

<<If you would, m'lady.>>
"... Right..."

So she shot it, once again, dead in the center of its head. It wasn't that she felt any kind of regret for dispatching the bolt bucket. In fact, droids of that calibre served best as target practice- especially when they weren't her own. And these weren't. Here, on Kashyyyk, all of the droids belonged to the sith, the only exceptions being her own NN-2 and Detox. Another droid, one which had apparently been hiding previously, broke its cover and scurried away in fear of the young woman. It fell swiftly against the bright green bolt, a final blast from Xenia's weapon, her oddly cool face hiding just behind it the fire of undirected anger.

<<Well, that was unexpected, from which database do you think they pulled your facial file?>>
"... I don't know, I'm trying to think- I shouldn't have facial ID anywhere...!"
<<Well, it appears as if you-->>

"-- I do," Xenia interrupted and finished Detox's sentence, "I know." Satisfied with her work on the droids, Xenia swung her hands about in a specific command to the NN-2. "Load this up, we're getting out of here." The bulky war droid, massive and more than capable of some heavy lifting began its task of loading whatever spoils she'd come out with onto the Ginivex. That, and the medical supplies she'd been provided for temporarily sustainment during her travels, as she'd insisted to travel by her own methods.

She hadn't ever liked Kashyyyk much, so Kashyyyk after such a large slaughtering was barely any better. Death was on the air, and there was that little voice in the back of her head reminding her that she'd just killed or aided in the death of thousands. Oh, she hated that voice right now. It was that same voice which shouted and screamed at her, blaming her for the loss of her own eye. Night was close on the primitive planet, but there was still a good hour or two left of light. Most craft had already been evacuated, troop transport ships having littered this area only hours earlier. Now, there were only three vessels present. Her own, some moderate looking Correllian freighter, and a rather antique Chiss style tie series. The landing pads, as they always were on the forsaken planet, were made of sticks bridges and thick branches. Wooden beams, in areas, build additional landing pads for substantially smaller transports.

<<I do hope the OS hasn't tried to register your facial ID.>>
"... For their sake?"
<<Rhetorical question, m'lady.>>

[member="Torin Varik"]

 

[Torin Varik]

With the practiced stamina of the warrior he was, Torin moved with desperate determination. His pace was urgent but cautious as he moved across the long bridges that connected the large branches. The pit in his stomach grew with each step he took. His explicit knowledge of the base would save him some time but was it enough? Would he have enough time to go back for Nejaa and get off world before it was too late? He had to believe that it would be. He had to trust that his master could handle that Sith woman himself long enough for Torin to redeem himself.

His head pivoted to either side and occasionally behind him. The blaster clasped between his hands was kept pointed at the floor but was more than ready for immediate response if need be. He knew he wouldn't be alone. Sith, Vong, droids, and who knows what were littered about the planet. Although, it was not really a planet anymore. It was a grave - unfortunate collateral damage in a war between forces far greater than it. Veins stretched across tensed muscles along his exposed arms. The torso portion of his pilot suit folded at the hip - the sleeves tied together. The thin white tank top he wore beneath was now exposed due to the need to attend to his injury from his earlier battle.

Rather than standing guard at the entrance to the landing bay, as the pilot had predicted, the Sith's droids lay in pieces on the floor. At first, hope gripped his heart, as he entertained the possibility of a surviving Jedi close by. But as he crouched to examine the mess, he discovered that they were destroyed by blasters rather than light sabers. It didn't mean Jedi was out of the question, just less likely. Sparks and smoke still spewed from droid victims, meaning the attack was very recent. Female voices up ahead perked his focus, and he launched himself from his crouched position and took off, running out onto the landing pad.

Relief washed over the Jedi to see that his ship was still safe and where he had left it. Two young women and a droid stood beside one of the three parked ships just ahead of him. It was a solar sailer - a small durasteel pod of ship that can only be fully appreciated when flying in space. The style varied greatly from the clunky, rounded design of the Correllian Fighter beside it. One of the women was obviously Twi'lek - clad in medic garb and seemingly unscathed. The other was what Torin assumed to be human but it was hard to be completely sure beneath her elaborate but tattered attire. The droid stood tall, probably taller than Torin even, and looked dangerous. He didn't recognize her but she didn't seem obviously associated with the One Sith. The droid that accompanied her, although intimidating, did not look like the Sith's. And, if she had in fact been the one to take out the guards at the entrance, it would be seemingly safe to assume that she was not allied with them. Even so, he kept his blaster drawn as he approached the women. It wasn't aimed, just readied. Better to be safe than sorry.

"If you're friendly to the Republic, show me your hands."

[member="Xenia Nastassia"]

 

[Xenia Nastassia]

Mid Rim;
Mytaranor Sector;
Near Kashyyyk Space.

Each tree split three or four times from ground level, dividing into massive branches. Like arms, holding the cities of Kashyyyk's furry residents. The uh, carpets, as they were commonly referred; wookies. From these branches, architecture was born, wooden walk ways, circular balconies and open air enclaves, devoid of walls or railing. Naturally, the landing pads were closer to the upper most branches, of course more convenient for the landing pilot, and were reinforced heavily with a well maintained durasteel. From any one point on a tree, it was relatively easy to navigate to an adjoining location, bridges built in plain view. Normally, each landing pad was monitored by wookie guards. The corpses of which were probably there, under the others, if you looked hard enough. Now only the cold steel of droid security patrolled these areas, nothing more than a previous battlefield, a prize already won.

"We'll just have to check, won't we."

Xenia's teeth flashed and she pulled out three fingers as if counting in her head. <<By what method?>> The twi'lek look alike swayed back and forth, her tone casual enough, hands waving to either side as if she actually possessed some kind of character.

"Wanna know how long it took to break through OS firewalls from their own server room?"

<<... Wait, Xenia... you didn't- when did you have the time?>>

"What're you talking about? I've had nothing but time since I firs--"
"If you're friendly to the Republic, show me your hands."

Xenia almost choked on her words, though quietly enough, fire filled eyes raising first to Detox then to whatever lay behind her. The motion caused her gowns to roar in rippled chaos, searching until she found it. A pilot, and completely alone. In his hands, a gun was raised, levied to just about her position though without the precise caution of taking aim. He'd probably regret that if they got into it. Clicking to attention, the NN-2 stomped from the ship's posterior, red scanner fields detecting the approaching human. Something almost like nerves displayed themselves on the twi'lek's face, like the colored creature was cowering. Xenia scoffed, her head falling sideways and taking up their posts in locked gaze. In her assumption that this man was in fact an unfortunate Republic pilot-found-his-way-home, the odds would be clear. Massive droid, giant gun, smaller soft being, smaller gun. For the moment, Xenia would become her own weapon, but that didn't mean a pistol wouldn't help. The nubian blaster nearly fell form her sleeve and into position- and she didn't suffer from the requirement of looking down its scope to make the perfect shot. Her up-and-down pan of Torin and resulting barely satisfied glare would be enough to disarm most in confidence alone.

"Or, you can turn and I'll give you a... short... head start- that a lightsaber on your belt?"

Xenia's gun shook at the Jedi, waving him off in a total underestimation...

[member="Torin Varik"]

 

[Torin Varik]

The Jedi didn't stop moving forward until he saw the woman's own blaster aimed in his direction. His arms tensed in reaction to the concealed weapon and he lifted his own gun to an aim that mirrored hers. Her blaster was small, fitting for a young woman, and Nubian like her attire. It wasn't until she turned around fully to face him when he noticed her injury. The bandage over her face covered impressive area meaning the wound must've been substantial. Disappointment washed over the man's expression at the sight of her hostility. He was really hoping for help rather than another obstacle that he had no time for. However, he was rather impressed with her confidence given the circumstances - a petite injured woman threatening an armed Jedi. Her attire didn't seem fit for combat either. Yet she spoke with the confidence of the woman Nejaa was currently dealing.

"If it is, do I loose my head start?"

[member="Xenia Nastassia"]

 

[Xenia Nastassia]

Mid Rim;
Mytaranor Sector;
Near Kashyyyk Space.

At first it might've looked like a smile, but it wasn't. Not really. Xenia didn't flinch, or tremble, certainly didn't lower her weapon or drop control of the situation. From what she had seen, Jedi or not, she was the better shot. Even so, she hadn't been forced to deal with them up close, and she had seen their merit first hand only hours before. Her partner, [member="Cryax Bane"] had been all but severed in two by one of the light-sword wielding brutes; though it apparently hadn't been the first time. Behind Xenia, the twi'lek fidgeted, squirming until she finally took a step forward and tugged at Xenia's arm. <<I think we should be going, please... now...>> Detox sounded so concerned and fearful, unlike the statuesque NN-2 drone droid standing above them all. Xenia only shook the modified NN-K droid off, the twi'lek falling back again, large pouting lip. Xenia's eyes always remained trained on the human opposite her, finger stroking the trigger of her gun like she almost begged to go ahead and take the shot.

"I don't want to shoot you, but you're not giving me much of a choice."

She spoke slowly, a furrowed brow giving away maddening confusion. She had just seen hundreds of Jedi like this one perish under various horrible death sources. The planet had been cast into total subjugation, no mercy. This territory had been claimed, who was this man, why was he here? Xenia's head nodded towards Torin's own blaster, signaling for him to drop it before she'd drop her own.

"C'mon, you did point it first."

Then she pulled her gun up, holding it in the air as if her hands were up for an arrest. A cunning smile, but acutely aware stare towards Torin suggesting that he too offer some kind of surrender. Because even while her gun wasn't honed, the bulky cannon of a weapon carried by the NN-2 was still ready to eradicate anyone in its path. It was just a fair reality, she had numbers, he didn't.

[member="Torin Varik"]

 

[Torin Varik]

"I don't want to shoot you, but you're not giving me much of a choice."​

"You always have a choice,"

The Jedi's response was instant, rooted in true belief. There was a genuine plead behind his words - the concern for his master in danger. Torin didn't want to have to hurt her, but he couldn't afford to loose anymore time. His hands traded the weight of the blaster as he hesitated in consideration - hazel eyes studying her from head to toe. Then he saw potential in the situation. Incapacitating her may not prove as useful as he had originally thought. If she wasn't going to try to kill him, she could be a potential ally. And he and Nejaa needed as many allies that they could get.

"C'mon, you did point it first."​

Slowly, he let his aim fall and his hands separate - blaster in the left. He knelt, his gaze unwavering, and placed the blaster in front of him. Raising casually, he stepped over it toward the crew in front of him. But he wasn't really unarmed. He hadn't even drawn his real weapon yet. Surrendering the blaster sent a message. Not only was he confident enough to deal with anything she could throw his way without the blaster, but being unarmed would instigate an opportunity - while she's not as threatened - to negotiate. Her own disarming followed directly after.

"You're right, I did. And that's no way to introduce myself. Where are my manners?"
He moved forward with a casual pace, subtle caution slowing his steps. The pilot nodded to and glanced at their ship behind them.
"No matter which side your on, it looks like you want off this planet just as much as I do. If credits are the question, I can provide you with enough to convince you to help me."

He almost smiled as he spoke. His claim was strong and meant to be convincing. It may not work but it was worth a shot. However, he did have a plan "B" if all else failed. If he could get past her and her droid, he could get to their Solar Sailer and maybe have a better chance of getting past the blockades of enemy starships.

[member="Xenia Nastassia"]

 

[Xenia Nastassia]

Mid Rim;
Mytaranor Sector;
Near Kashyyyk Space.

"You're right, I did. And that's no way to introduce myself. Where are my manners?"
"Whoa-whoa-buddy- S'close enough."
"No matter which side your on, it looks like you want off this planet just as much as I do. If credits are the question, I can provide you with enough to convince you to help me."

Xenia's expression was one of mild amusement as well as everlasting caution. As the Jedi knelt, placed his secondary weapon on the ground before him and rose again as if he was now without offensive ability. As if dropping the blaster somehow justified him coming close with the lightsaber. Like hell it'd work like that. Her own reflexes were quick and a shot was fired towards the ground when Torin continued to approach. It would smash and char the wood on which it landed, though harm him in no way. A near perfect shot, not inches from the Jedi's boot. It was clear that 'lowering her gun' was the same as a Jedi sacrificing his blaster, a useless gesture. Xenia's reaction to the man was barely professional, if not more so taunting. Her bottom lip fell into a pout and her eyes scoured him like a plaything.

"I said that was close enough..."

Her eyes said 'I did tell you so,' and her gun was pointed again. "I'm not interested in credits--" Even if she had another thought, she wasn't able to speak it, instead becoming distracted by Detox's rendition of a twi'lek, dancing about in a scuttle of nerves and quietly suggesting they depart from the Jedi's presence. Her head cocked to the side, checking over her own horde in a moment and then returning focus back to where it belonged. He was a rather confident man to approach such a hulking droid, though she wondered more about how he had managed to live through the horror she had just witnesses hours earlier. She had seen young men and women among Republic ranks, but age, rank, none of that had mattered against the OS swarms. Yet, here this human was.

"-- And you still have your lightsaber, Jedi, I'm no idiot-- slide it over, and don't try anything."

Again her gun waved, this time with a direct command, first pointing it at Torin's head, then the weapon on his belt. She demonstrated 'sliding' the lightsaber with a brief, under handed motion.

[member="Torin Varik"]

 

[Torin Varik]

The pilot's foot steps came to an abrupt halt as the warning shot was fired. Any closer and the toe of his boot would be smoking. Instead, a charred design now stained the ground inches away. Sharp hazel eyes darted down and back up. His brow furrowed with curiosity and mild amusement. He leaned back onto his heals and lifted his hands so they were parallel with his waist in a playful surrender. Point proven - she was, in fact, a good shot. Not all bark, perhaps. But he was placing his bets on her now, both his and Nejaa's. She was to be their ticket out of here. If not her, than surely her ship. He would do what he had to.

​

"I said that was close enough."​

"That you did." He offered an almost playful retort.

"I'm not interested in credits."​

The Twi'lek's incessant prodding finally caught her attention and pulled her focus from the conversation for a moment. He used it to steal a curious visual inspection of the large droid beside her. He wasn't too worried about it, but it may yet prove to be annoying.

"And you still have your lightsaber, Jedi, I'm no idiot. Slide it over, and don't try anything."​

​

He didn't move. Broad shoulders framed a solid stance. The pilot exuded an air of confidence that kept his chest high, his chin up, and an almost cocky expression on his face in the presence of his sassy opponent. "Fair enough." He slid the light saber from its hilt. However, instead of sliding to her as per request, he tossed it across the landing pad to his right. It came to rest a dozen or so feet from them. Still his eyes remained locked on the woman. He tested the limits of her patience, betting on the fact that she hadn't yet killed him and therefore would not. He shrugged, suggesting a playful yet unspoken 'apology.' He casually lifted his hand to aid his dialogue - a suggestive glint in his hazel eyes.

"What can I interest you in?"

[member="Xenia Nastassia"]

 

[Xenia Nastassia]

Mid Rim;
Mytaranor Sector;
Near Kashyyyk Space.

The look said it all. I didn't want you to do that, only shaped with the eyes and a frown. But before the lightsaber even hit the ground her blaster moved and she'd shot again. Instead, what hit the ground was the torn apart carcass of a lightsaber's hilt, sparking and clearly no longer suitable in the slightest. She honestly had to take a second, looking back with something proud written on her face. The direction of her gun changed again, and fell back to Torin. A cocked eye brow, as if she had forgotten how to speak without body language entirely. Well, he had swindled himself from having his own weapon.

"You're not making me want to trust you, Jedi."
"What can I interest you in?"

Xenia's hips swung until legs locked in a comfortable position, "Hint, you should probably just start doing what I say, the way I say it. Now get lost, this is no place for a defenseless Jedi." Her face didn't look like it cared about this rogue human, lost and alone, cut off from the pack laying dead all around it. As far as she was concerned, even a Jedi was no match for her without any form of weaponry, not to mention her numerous mechanical companions. Leaving two other sets of eyes on Torin, Xenia turned her own and began marching towards the ship, clearly she was done talking. "NN-2, finish loading this last canister, then report to your craft. Nao'ami," Xenia caster her gaze to the twi'lek, "accompany 'em when he's ready. Until then, I want eyes on our friend." Detox nodded, taking instantly to the false name Nao'ami without a hint of surprise, sucking up whatever data and information Xenia gave to it in order to further build what this role meant in the moment. Turning her focus back to Torin, the holographic NN-K remained stationed on patrol, nervously fidgeting, as was apparently a character trait.

<<Yez, m'lady.>>
<<Yeah- yes, but are you just going to leave him there... he's a....>>
"Look, I suggest you run while you can. Even with any of these ships there's no way you'll get through the blockade alive."

[member="Torin Varik"]

 

[Torin Varik]

The padawan cringed as his only remaining saber was blasted to bits. He really hadn't thought of that? Why hadn't he thought of that? His hand almost stretched out to grab at it but instead retracted into a tightened fist. An exasperated sigh hissed through his lips. Who was this woman? And why was she in his way? They exchanged looks once more: Torin waring a quite disappointed expression, while Xenia flaunted her supposed victory. Some version of a conversation exchanged between their expressive eyes. Then she turned, completely discarding the conversation, not to mention the Jedi approaching her. She would regret her arrogance.

"Hint, you should probably just start doing what I say, the way I say it. ​

Now get lost, this is no place for a defenseless Jedi."​

"It was." His words were sharp, demanding, different than how he spoke before. Casually, he slid one hand behind him to rest on his lower back. The other he used to add to his speech. His tone was wounded but angry and meant to jab. "It was a home for many. Now it's a graveyard of familiar faces." He kept his body still as he looked around at the corpses. His eyes were lit with purpose as they darted to a vibrolance dropped by a near by Wookie guard. Still strapped to the fury corpse was a grenade belt. It seemed luck was on his side... for now. A series of explosives lay scattered about, including nonlethal. "I hope those responsible never forget the damage they've done here today, all the lives they've destroyed..." Much more meaning hid behind his words. A subtle aggression lurked behind hazel eyes. Her preoccupation and his position allowed him an opportunity to call on the force unnoticed. The blaster behind him lifted from the ground and flew to meet his open palm.

"Look, I suggest you run while you can. ​

Even with any of these ships there's no way you'll get through the blockade alive." ​

​

"You may be right... But I have to try."

A flick of his wrist and the scene exploded into action. Reaching out with the force, Torin sent one of the CryoBan grenades beside the Wookie flying across the floor until it was beneath the bulky droid. He moved forward and fired an instant and perfect shot at the explosive causing it to consume the droid in a energetic blast designed to shut it down. The blast would leave the women unharmed but may give them a good push. Torin would soon learn the truth about the Twi'lek if it was also in the blast range as it would suffer the same fate as the other droid. With a swift motion of his thumb the blaster was set to stun and aimed at the woman in charge. He was now closer. Much closer, and armed. Eyes locked on target in a determined glare.

"You must understand that I can't just run away. Not when someone is depending on me. I will find a way off this planet and you will help me."
His tone demanded as did his eyes. If this was how she wanted to play it, so be it. Torin wasn't about to roll over and give up. He pushed the blaster forward with urgency. He needed answers and he need them now.
"You said I wouldn't be able to get through the blockade alive." His eyes narrowed and his head cocked. "But I'm betting you can."

[member="Xenia Nastassia"]

 

[Xenia Nastassia]

Mid Rim;
Mytaranor Sector;
Near Kashyyyk Space.

"You may be right... But I have to try."

--Son of a...

"You must understand that I can't just run away. Not when someone is depending on me. I will find a way off this planet and you will help me."

--Jumped up dirt farmer!

"You said I wouldn't be able to get through the blockade alive."
"But I'm betting you can."

Well, that escalated quickly. And she hadn't seen a thing before the Jedi quite literally began exploding things. In fact, Xenia wasn't even sure what was happening until it happened, Torin's voice acting as a warning which came just a moment too late. Had her right eye still assumed the capability of sight, she might have seen the swelling blue wave of ionic energy nearing her, her droids, and her ship. Something which popped more than boomed, and pushed violently through any and all electrical circuits until they were but shy remnants of the working bits they had been, sparking and all but overloaded. Xenia's arms and hands rose as a useless shield, but the push came regardless and tore her from the perched stance she had since adopted. A loud, metallic clunking of the NN-2 against wood and durasteel, then her own.

<<M'lady!!>>

She hadn't the time to notice her own pain, nor the stinging which was deeply rooted in her mouth- her teeth. The curse she spat was more to herself than at the attacker, quite, and mixed in with a grunt. Folds and fabrics wrapped her round and made movement a bit more difficult than it should be, though she was able to procure her own weapon without much delay-- too late. Pushing up and propping herself on a fragile arm, her own weapon thrust in the direction of someone seemingly steps ahead of her. Torin, the Jedi, hovered above her, the weapon he had previously dropped poised as if he had never let it go. Blasted Jedi tricks. She could only manage a feint roll of the eyes, a sideways cock of the head, then her own weapon was released to the ground. And not just dropped, but slid across the landing pad, a clear symbol of resignation.

"Stop- stop, stop, I'm no fool, I know when I'm beaten."

She wasn't an idiot, and just because she no more feared the Jedi before her than a sickly womp rat didn't mean she'd go out of her way just to fight him. They had both presented their cards, played their hands, and here were the results. The NN-2, unfortunately, hadn't been the only victim of the ion attack. A section of her own craft sparked, near the lamding ramp gear. Blast, he didn't, did he? Oh, and that wasn't it, she practically had to spit out the technology she'd stored in her own mouth. Various explosives she'd designed to fit in and beside her teeth, now defective and more a hazard than useful. Detox had been the only unharmed survivor, the twi'lek now in a trained shooting stance with something of a more effective blaster than what Xenia preferred. Nubian, but larger, heavier, more bulky, and not the least bit chrome.

<<Don't make another more, Jedi... h-hands above your head-- weapon... p-put it on the ground!!>>

She was serious, the gun already locked and loaded, and a finger itching to shoot. Yet, the roll Detox played never faltered. A perfect character build, shaking speech, nervous and uncomfortable with fighting a Jedi. Just as a timid twi'lek medical personnel should be- a clever guise to drop both an enemy's expectations and force underestimation. Xenia's eye brow raised, small trickles of composure seeping back into place. Both palms faced forward, 'don't shoot.' After all, the Jedi was still outnumbered.

"I'm going to get up now... my hands are staying where they are, just... standing..."
<<W-What do we do--? Hands, Jedi! Now! I mean it, drop your weapon!>>
"She is asking nicely..."

 

[Torin Varik]

No matter how stubborn this woman was, she would be forced to realize the reality of the situation. She was not in the position to challenge a Jedi without her big bad droid to back her up. The blast from the Cryoban had knocked her to the ground and the barrel of Torin’s blaster now stared her down. She was quick to put the pieces together and surrender before it was too late. Smart move. But the Jedi’s moment of victory was cut short by the click of a blaster’s safety trigger to his left.

The Jedi had turned a blind eye to the meek looking Twi’lek nurse, making the wrongful assumption that she was no threat. He glanced in her direction without turning his head. She gripped the blaster with skilled aim and trained knowledge. Her leku hugged close to her neck in a submissive manor. Her eyes darted between her target and Xenia. But something was off. Torin couldn’t place it but there was something that didn’t match up. The blaster she held was no small Nubian pistol. It was much larger, with a variety of attached toys and a barrel twice the size of Torin’s. Where had she gotten it? He couldn't recall seeing it on her person when he entered the landing pad. It was certainly large enough to have noted.

<<Don’t make another move, Jedi…
h-hands above your head—
Weapon… p-put it on the ground!!>>

She stuttered a pathetic demand. Torin adjusted his head to give her his full attention. His blaster remained aimed at Xenia. “You want to help your friend? So do I. Listen—"

“I’m going to get up now… my hands are staying where they are, just… standing…”​

The pilot's focus bounced between the two of them. He still wasn’t too concerned about the nurse. She hardly appeared to be very intimidating. She had probably never shot anyone before and wasn’t about to fire at a Jedi. A frustrated grunt replaced Torin’s speech as the Twi’lek continued shouting orders. As the injured Nabu tried to stand, Torin pushed the blaster closer and showed her a threatening glare. “Don’t push your luck-"

<<Hands, Jedi! Now! I mean it drop your weapon!>> He was promptly cut off by yet another threat.

“She is asking nicely…” The women played off each other’s dialogue like they were scripted - eerily synchronized. Torin’s aim was unwavering as was his gaze.​

“And if I do? If I disarm and surrender to you, what happens then? Would you turn me over to the One Sith to be another one of the many casualties or worse? Or perhaps you’ll just kill me yourself?”
He looked back and forth between them, searching their expressions for an inkling of empathy.
"I’m not leaving this landing pad because I have no other choice. You do. You can choose to save lives or you can get out of my way.”
He hesitated. He knew what he was proposing was risky but he was desperate - desperate for, not only his life, but Nejaa’s as well.
“I don’t know why you’re here. But I do know that if you are on this planet, you’re involved in this battle - regardless of wether you chose to be or not. I chose to spare your lives and instead offer you a chance. Please don’t make me change my mind.” It was a genuine request backed with serious urgency. There had been enough death here today. The last thing he wanted was to add to the body count.

[member="Xenia Nastassia"]

 

[Xenia Nastassia]

Mid Rim;
Mytaranor Sector;
Near Kashyyyk Space.

“And if I do? If I disarm and surrender to you, what happens then? Would you turn me over to the One Sith to be another one of the many casualties or worse? Or perhaps you’ll just kill me yourself?”
"Ever taken an S-5 Nubian blaster to the back, Jedi?"

Yeah, that's right, my turn- again. The one visible eye was clearly cut in confidence. As she rose, her hands dropped from their revealing position, taking their place at her side as if she was once again in control of the situation. "I'm no expert but..." her voice took a menacing turn, "I'm gunna guess that'd kill a Jedi, too." Her gaze, as one sided as it was, could certainly drill a hole through someone. It wasn't crude or cruel, certainly nothing obviously terrible- more like a glinting glimmer. The angle every feature took on her face.

"Now, if you surrender to me you're at least taking a step away from that, aren't you?"
"I’m not leaving this landing pad because I have no other choice. You do. You can choose to save lives or you can get out of my way.”
"I wouldn't care normally, but, c'mon, I can't say you've been pleasant," her gun motioned to his.
<<Now!>>
“I don’t know why you’re here. But I do know that if you are on this planet, you’re involved in this battle - regardless of wether you chose to be or not. I chose to spare your lives and instead offer you a chance. Please don’t make me change my mind.”
"Pfft-- you didn't spare anyone-- look--"

Her recoil was obvious, a rounded motion of her head and a sarcastic slant in the eyes. Eyes which looked him up and down, though certainly without any flattering motive. More so to suggest that he was delusional for even thinking himself relevant here.

"... Look, you're jumping to a lot of conclusions Jedi. Look around you, I shot those OS droids. These are NN droid models, that's Nubian-- or at least it was before you deep fried it."

She paused, a dismissive look cast at the newly dubbed Nao'ami. There was a bit of odd silence, no real emotion displayed on Xenia's face beyond something which only a droid could really understand. Facial recog scanners, something excellent in picking up on the more minor movements of the face.

"Nao'ami...--"
<<No, no way-->>
"It would make it kinda sweet, wouldn't it?"
<<We're not flying a Jedi through that blockage.>>

... Silence.

<<Do I have to shoot him right here, m'lady, you can't be serious!?>>

Xenia looked back to Torin.

"Ever flown a Nubian N-1 starfighter... forever-nameless-Jedi?"

[member="Torin Varik"]

 

[Torin Varik]

"... Look, you're jumping to a lot of conclusions Jedi. Look around you, I shot those OS droids. These are NN droid models, that's Nubian-- or at least it was before you deep fried it."​

"If I remember correctly, I did choose to disarm first. Your droid would still be unharmed if you had done the same…” He paused, glancing between the two of them. "Forgive me for my assumptions. But you must understand that my situation doesn't leave much room for trust." The pilot struggled to maintain a calm disposition. “However, I trusted you enough to approach you for help. I’m trusting that you will make the right decision."

Tick...
Tock...
Tick...
Tock...

He tried to stay in the moment - stay calm. But deafening thoughts of his time limit made him impatient. Hazel eyes bounced between them, watching curiously as the women exchanged words. He quickly gathered that the situation may finally be working in his favor. Then the question came - the question he had been waiting for. It was more of an invitation, really - an invitation to pilot one of her Nubian crafts. The Twi'lek's opposition was still a concern but obviously the Nubian's authority overruled here.

"Torin... My name is Torin Varik." He lowered his blaster slowly, keeping a weary eye on the Twi’lek. He was a bit shocked that it had worked - that she was actually willing to help him. Once stern and crass, his disposition dropped to desperate gratitude. “You’re risk will have great reward. You have my word.” He gave the Twi’lek a cordial look, addressing both of them as he spoke. "My master is not far from here. We don't have much time.” He tucked the blaster into it’s holster at his hip and offered the palms of his hands. “I’m capable of piloting any ship you have available. However, I do have my own fighter as well.” He nodded to the Chiss style ship beside hers. "That Claw Craft over there belongs to me. Perhaps I could pilot it beside you. With our combined efforts, we could make it to the Northern landing pad and assist my master before escaping." He spoke quickly. Now that they were on his side, he wanted to move on from the petty threats that went on earlier and get straight to the point. At this point, he didn't care who she was. Anyone he could recruit to help him get to Nejaa was good enough.

[member="Xenia Nastassia"]

 

[Torin Varik]

[Not a post]

 

[Xenia Nastassia]

Mid Rim;
Kashyyyk;
Landing Pads.

"Torin... My name is Torin Varik."

Detox had already found that.
Already run a routine information check.

“You’re risk will have great reward. You have my word.”
<<Whoa whoa buddy, she asked you a question!>>
"My master is not far from here. We don't have much time.”
<<Your what? No, Xenia no, out of the question.>>

Detox shook the gun in its hands, mimicking anxiety on the young twi'lek's face and hurriedly glancing over for assistance. Xenia offered none, though certainly didn't scold her counterpart for reckless behavior while wielding a blaster. It was clear she more or less views this conversation from the seat of a third party, impervious to the danger and very much the one in charge. Waving off her 'emotional' droid she instead chose to speak directly with Torin, much more comfortable with the idea of giving him his own voice. Detox would continue to frame Xenia as the good guy, thanks to a generous portion of it VDP; verbal defense programming. Even so, it was very odd to know that underneath that alien's skin were only wires and metal framework.

“I’m capable of piloting any ship you have available. However, I do have my own fighter as well.”
"Where? And what's this about your master?"
"That Claw Craft over there belongs to me. Perhaps I could pilot it beside you. With our combined efforts, we could make it to the Northern landing pad and assist my master before escaping."
<<Combined efforts--?!>>
"Slow down... what's happening to your master? ... What kind of assistance-? She's right, we're not trying to draw attention to ourselves..."

Giving the Clawcraft Torin spoke of a small nod in recognition, she had to admit it was a pretty ship. In some ways it held a similar aesthetic appeal to her own vessel, each revolving around a smaller, central sphere for a cockpit. Though, where the Geisha opened into the translucent solar sailor mast, Torin's was constructed of a much more solid material, crescent wings of thick, dark shelling. In truth, she was more baffled than Torin might understand, never having heard of a Jedi's traditions, or a Sith's traditions. The concept of master and apprentice sounded more to her like slavery of some benign sort then obviously accepted reality, as it was for the corellian.

[member="Torin Varik"]

 

[Torin Varik]

"Slow down... what's happening to your master? ... What kind of assistance-? ​

"His life is in danger. We need to--" He tried to interject.

​

"She's right, we're not trying to draw attention to ourselves..."​

The impatient padawan really didn't have the time for their questions and misunderstandings. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to slow down, explain and continue the struggle to gain their trust. He took a deep breath and looked calmly at the injured woman.

"My master is a Jedi Knight by the name of Nejaa Niynx. He's a fellow survivor, like you and I... and I fear he's one of the last. I can't leave him here to die like the rest of them." Pain tainted his voice. He paused and shifted his gaze to the Twi'lek. "Also... he may be our only way out." His voice was calm but firm, and purred with a low vibration.

"I agree, we shouldn't bring attention to ourselves..." He eyed his Claw Craft, a solemnness about his gaze. He took a moment to accept that this may be the last time he will see the craft he had worked with for so many years. He knew that if he chose to attempt to fly the unidentified craft off the planet, he'd be shot out of the sky. It wasn't the Jedi way, to feel any attached to something so material, but there was something about the long hours devoted to improving the vintage craft that made it especially bitter.

"Nejaa's ship will allow us to slip through the blockade unseen. It's in need of a few... uh... minor repairs." A guilty sideways glance broke up his sentence, which he quickly recovered with unsure optimism. "But it should buy us some time." He raised one eyebrow and glanced between them, hoping they had a better option. The condition of Scimitar was far from prepared for such a promise.

[member="Xenia Nastassia"]

 

[Xenia Nastassia]

Mid Rim;
Kashyyyk;
Landing Pads;
[member="Torin Varik"].

Xenia flashed white teeth, and the twi'lek obviously didn't like that, concerned with her human counterparts apparent casual playing of the game. In the end, as long as they had the gun pointed, there was little that could be done. Detox, given the reason to shoot, wouldn't miss. But she smiled when she put two and two together. It seemed the Jedi had stumbled over his thoughts once again, coming to the wrong conclusion- she wasn't a survivor here. She was the victor.

"I don't need your master's ship to get out of here, Jedi, they'll let me come and go as I please. What they won't like is seeing me, here, with you."

Xenia looked outward, into the random mingling and outstretched branches of trees. Platforms, wooden structures, abundant crates of foodstuffs and ammunition materials. Her brow was ridden in wrinkles as if thinking for a second, then she turned back to the padawan. As she spoke she ran slender fingers along an artistically made desh metal band, touchpad technology opening it up and transforming the sleek ornament into a highly powered holo projection data-pad interface. Like she had done it millions of times, she flew through a few small screen options before raising that arm to her lips, as if to bite her own wrist.

"This is Koda Rune, do you copy?"
<<Koda Rune, this is OS airliner Gideonkkfft... position?>>
"South Kachiro, landing pads, central bay--"

She'd shoot Torin a look which clearly said don't do anything, don't move, don't even look me the wrong way. You sit. The data-pad now displayed it all so well, small ping numbers establishing a trace to various ships of war lingering in the above atmosphere behind the cloud line. Like she had to first pick who she was before dialing in to receive verbal assistance.

"I heard something east, patch me through to ground control."
<<Negative, all adjacent eastern sectors are under lock, Jedi spotted.>>
"Assessment?"
<<Matsu Xiangu has already answered, clean up crew is on route.>>
"... Then the Jedi's been dealt with already?"
<<Yes ma'am.>>

Her finger left the small module on her arm, most likely in reaction to Torin himself. Such new would barely come easily, as it had sounded bleak in the hope for his master's survival. When Xenia's own microphone wouldn't pick up her voice, she spoke in a hushed tone, quick to convey that she wasn't an enemy to the possible angered Jedi. "My name isn't Koda, my name is Xenia Nastassia, I'm on a diplomatic mission. Look, I'd like to help you, but my hands are tied if she's there." Xenia looked Torin up and down, unsure of how he'd take her decline. "Matsu, I mean, I've personally seen what she's capable of," the edges of Xenia's mouth fell, a natural 'yikes!' The twi'lek still differed to silence, tightly gripping the gun in its hands. The intelligent, logical brain behind that holo-projected skin knew that its role had been finished. Detox had established itself as a character, and made its opinion clear- also framing Xenia as the leader of the operation and more powerful combatant. Their combined savvy, however, was what made them terrifying.

"I can get you and your ship through whatever blockade they're forming, but we'll have to move now."

Xenia clicked the beacon once more on the built in comlink, all a part of her wrist accessory. The same channels popped up and buzzed to life. "Koda Rune, do you copy." There was that same pause, a static semi-silence and then a sputtering connection trace.

<<OS Gideon, we copy.>>
"I need a location on any detained Jedi."
<<Location and time detained, please.>>
"South Kachiro, now."




<<... Jedi ID'd as Nejaa Niynx by his own ship's computers. Currently in detainment.>>
"Status?"
<<... Living. Prepping for stasis.>>
"Stasis?"
<<Chyrogenic stasis.>>
"Destination?"





<<... No coordinates yet. Is that all?>>
"Yes, that's everything. If there are any further developments I will want to know."
<<Yes ma'am.>>



"Your friend isn't staying on world for very long if they're prepping him for stasis, and you shouldn't either... what's your move?"

 

[Torin Varik]

His finger tips swayed in cautious contempt as she revealed her gauntlet. His eyes narrowed, causing thick eye brows to furrow. A rough, digitalized voice filtered through the device on her arm. The glance he shot was cautious, but mostly curious. What was she planning? He didn't move, didn't speak, only listened and observed. He had a feeling more information was about to reveal itself.

The answers were far from what the padawan wanted to hear. In fact, they spelled out nightmare all too clearly. Matsu Xiangu... That must be her. That creature of a woman that he had left Nejaa to fight alone. Blast! Why did he insist on splitting up?! He grit his teeth, his hands clenched into tight fists. Reaching out with the force, he scoured through noise of the other life forms in a desperate search for familiarity. His own limitations and lack of results irritated him even more.

Now is not the time to get angry.
Now is the time to act.

"My name isn't Koda, my name is Xenia Nastassia, I'm on a diplomatic mission." ​

​

Her answer was vague but would have to do for now. He didn't have time to question her despite his curiosity. The situation had become much more complicated. But he realized that the only way he couldn't help Nejaa now was to survive and find reinforcements.

"Look, I'd like to help you, but my hands are tied if she's there. Matsu, I mean, I've personally seen what she's capable of,"​

There was a telling shift in the woman's demeanor when Matsu was the topic of conversation. It lead Torin to assume that there was some sort of history behind the two of them. However, the Nubian politician was obviously not to fond of Sith woman, so that was a good sign. This "Matsu" had quite the reputation. Perhaps they had underestimated her. He just needed to know if Nejaa was still alive. He was silent but unsettled by her sudden cowering. He closed his eyes, focusing of the ebbs and flows of the force. He outstretched it, digesting the information it rewarded him. And then, like a flame burning an exhausted wick, he saw it. Faint but reassuring. He was alive, barely.

​

"I can get you and your ship through whatever blockade they're forming, but we'll have to move now."​

He paused, allowing a moment of silence to ensue. When he opened his eyes, the air was thick with anxiety. "He's alive... but I don't know for how long." His gaze met her's again with urgency. His tone held pressing intentions, implying that she pursue his intuition. Her next conversation proved him right but only added to the nightmare as it unfolded before him. Cryogenic stasis? They were detaining him, taking him prisoner. After they had slaughtered countless Jedi, they choose to take him alive? Torin's mind spun with conclusions.

"Your friend isn't staying on world for very long if they're prepping him for stasis, and you shouldn't either... what's your move?"​

"I agree. We should move quickly." He glanced at the Twi'lek. "However, you are still the one aiming the gun, so it's still your move." Despite the circumstance, his tone was almost playful. He moved slowly, unassertively, toward his ship. He kept his eyes on the Twi'lek and his hands obviously forward, open and away from his weapon. As he approached the craft he did a quick once over, studying it for damages or areas of concern, before returning his focus to the Nubian. "Do you think you can talk your friends into letting a Jedi in Claw Craft though their blockade?"

[member="Xenia Nastassia"]

 

[Xenia Nastassia]

Mid Rim;
Kashyyyk;
Landing Pads;
[member="Torin Varik"].

It took little longer than a moment's glaring under Xenia's scrutiny before the twi'lek dissolved her offensive grip on the weapon. Both arms raised and twisted wrists letting the pistol fall, guided, back into her prepositioned holster mid way down her thigh. Her face wore concern beautifully, whatever doubt she made obvious only nullified by Xenia's own subtle non verbal commands. With the weapon put away, Torin would be free to lower his guard- at least to whatever extent he felt comfortable. The padawan's attention seemed to fall instantly elsewhere, back towards his ship. She said nothing, gave no remark of hurried nature, only a nod of the head suggesting Detox load up.

<<Does this mean you're just dumping our fighters?>>
"... Chh-- As if--""Do you think you can talk your friends into letting a Jedi in Claw Craft though their blockade?"

Her droid was just in the middle of gesturing over to the young man when he opened his mouth and stole the words from it. Xenia's returning glance was one of familiar loathing, all but lethal if not for that glint of humor. She hated getting pointers from her own constructs- at least she acted like it. Deep down it was much akin to gratification, a reminder that she had done something amazing. Detox understood and took note of each minor micro-expression better than any organic she could name. Both of them fell away in a swiftly deteriorating sarcasm, finding their NN-2 replacement to wield at least some form of entertainment- though more than likely nothing he himself was aware of.

"... I wouldn't offer otherwise."

Even so, the issue of handling her dangerous quarry was still very much present, and now he was making requests. For a moment, maybe even less, maybe even something only Detox could see, Xenia's face flatlined into a grimacing inferno, aimed to disarm the padawan's subconscious, convey a meaning without formally speaking it. She had to remain in control, resourceful, capable, and yet bound by external necessities. In a quick scan of the his craft, she recalled anything she could on the make and model. Certainly antique, of Chiss design, and by the looks of it an ancestor of the Tie series.

"... I've got two Nubian craft in the adjoining landing pad, their on board systems are already capable of projecting scrambling codes. Ordinarily, the second would be flown by my NN-2. My offer would be to fly one of those, they've already been programmed with sensor scramble codes... If I remember correctly, the Tie series aren't known for their... computing capabilities."