Taking a shove from an exciteable guard droid, you begin to miss the makeshift holding cell the Republic had set up in an abandoned apartment building.  The guard you're following, likely a war vet relegated to prison work, walks at a slow pace, forcing you to falter back, only to get pushed forward by your robotic escorts.

You're forcibly sat down in the back seat of a shuttle, your hands still fastened behind your back.  The man you were following takes the passenger seat, while the driver, another guard, sets the vehicle in motion.

Coruscant's towers and constant vehicle traffic pass you by as you are driven along a route reserved for government use.  Up ahead looms the Senate building, an enormous structure, obvious from any distance.  The guards attain clearance to land, and do so at a landing pad cordoned off from the general public.

A new set of droids is there waiting, and their gleeful pushing continues.  The droids seem to have been programmed to take pleasure in shoving people around.  You're thrust into the building through empty hallways covered in the usual intricacy and beauty that is always such a stark contrast to the lower levels of the city planet.

Finally, you find yourself in a meeting room, and your cuffs unfasten, falling unceremoniously to the floor.  Another door opens nearby, and another prisoner is shoved in with about the same amount of effort given to grace and kindness, their stumbling form attempting to regain balance.

[Private to Oriana Cy'Kast: His shaggy, chin-length red hair and questionable taste in facial hair give away his identity immediately:  Hector Terrachova, the man who nearly killed Kai Marigg.]
[Private to Hector Terrachova: The orange shades and auburn hair resemble a human woman so strikingly familiar that you are almost sure you've met, or gotten shot at by, her before.]

Sitting at the head of the room's large table is an older human woman, gray hair pulled back into a bun.  Her gray military uniform, adorned with a number of accolades, bears four stars down the shoulder.  You are greeted by this General of the Republic military tersely, with "Hello.  Please, take a seat."

She would appear to be alone, but you would guess there are probably more hidden cameras in here than in the prison you were just brought from.  The room is well-lit and the table has entirely more chairs than is needed for the three people in the room.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:20, Thu 24 May 2012.

Having had just about enough of the droid's shoving, Oriana moves to push back against the latest metal-fisted assault on her person.  "Lay off, you overgrown cla..."  The soft *click* of her cuffs unfastening catches her before her tongue can dig her into any deeper trouble, and she blinks warily about the room while bringing her hands in front of her to rub at her wrists.

"You," Oriana hisses, instantly recognizing the other prisoner as he stumbles in.  Her eyes narrow behind her glasses, and she reflexively reaches for a blaster at her hip that isn't there.  Caught without her weapon at hand, she huffs indignantly, as her hand drops to her side once more.

Without looking away from the man across the room, she nods tersely in response to the General, "I'd say 'good afternoon', but I've had better."  Without further preamble, Oriana drops herself into the closest chair and pushes it back from the table somewhat.  Angling it so she can keep both the General and Hector in her field of vision, she nonchalantly kicks her booted feet up onto the edge of the table, one foot's heel balanced atop the toe of the other.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:07, Thu 24 May 2012.

"And people ask me why I never take droids on my ship," Hector grumbled as he was shoved along by the droids.  He sped up a bit, and nudged the guard ahead of him as they left the shuttle, and lowered his voice a bit.  "Would it have been too much trouble to have had some inflight entertainment?  A little Corellian brandy, maybe a movie?  It'd go a long way, you know." Of course, he was ignored.  A pity.  It was a good thing he'd downed the last of the bottle he'd... 'procured' while in his cell.  This guard was a lot less friendly than that lass who'd stood watch over him the night before, that was for sure.

Finally, they reached what seemed to be their destination.  Hustled into the room, Hector was filled with an almost childlike glee as his cuffs were removed.  He wasted no time in stretching his arms wide and high, loosening up those stiff muscles.  He then noticed another prisoner getting shuffled into the room.  A woman... quite a looker too, all things considered.  And she was shooting him quite the evil look.

Taking a seat, Hector returned her 'greeting'.  "You?" he said, inquisitively.  "You look familiar, have you shot at me before?" he asked, as relaxed as any being could possibly be when asking such a question.  It was valid though - Hector had been shot at by a lot of people.  It was hard remembering so many faces.  Beyond her though, he merely glanced at the General as she greeted them.  Hector didn't have any words for her.  She had his ship and his pistol, neither of which she'd given back.  He didn't like her very much.

As you seat yourselves, the General briefly fiddles with a datapad.  "Hector Terrachova, smuggler, I'm glad we could finally meet in person.  And Oriana Cy'Kast, I've not particularly had the pleasure.  I have a proposition for you."  She stood as she continued, an air of stale authority in her tone, "The Republic could use a few folks with your..." She sneered a little, waving a hand around as she searched for the word, "Your talents.  In exchange for your assistance, we will lessen the punishments you are due."

[[OOC: I wish I'd asked for a full list of crimes you two might've committed, that the General might have had handy.  "So-and-so, guilty of extortion, bribery, smuggling, ..." etc.]]

"Only a half-dozen or so times, before you distracted me by almost killing Kai Marigg.  Remember that?," Oriana snarks back, under her breath, in the moments before the General speaks.  The last time she'd seen the man across the table, she'd been watching him flee victoriously, while she labored over her captain's injured body, unwilling to leave the dying Duros to go in pursuit.  "He lived, I'm sure you're glad to know."

"Speaking of which, where's my boss?"  She returns her attention to the officer at the end of the table, lifting her voice to be more clearly heard.  Her eyes narrow slightly, her mind working over the potential list of reasons why she's here and Marigg isn't.  None of what comes to mind is good.

"What kind of assistance?"

OOC: I imagine that Ori's rap sheet is too long to list, ranging from the typical charges associated with transporting stolen goods, to possession of military hardware as a civilian, to illegal droid and vehicle modifications, to the standard fares of assault and attempted murder, down to a handful of humorous citations for illegally docking a starship in an unauthorized zone.

"That many?"  Hector stroked his beard for a moment, as though in deep thought.  "Boy, you must be a terrible shot."  He managed to even laugh, before the mention of Kai Marigg clicked.  That brought back his scowl - he could've sworn that worm was dead.  Two shots to the chest and one to the head?  Then again, Duros did have huge heads... probably a lot of useless space in there.  Even more than usual, considering it was Kai Marigg.

"So, that worm's still alive, huh?  Guess he's good at one thing at least, although that puts him more in common with a cockroach than anything else." He had to give the man one thing, he was hard to kill - apparently.  "Why're you still hung up on him, then?  That Duros is a failure, hun.  You should move on to greener pastures.  Or redder."  He flashed a grin, then turned to the General.

"General!  I must agree.  That chat we had on the holo didn't do you justice.  You're much more striking in person," he said, leaning back in his chair to get more comfortable.  "So, what, *ahem*, talents do you require of me?"

"Marigg is fine.  He's being relegated to...other duties."

"Allow me to preface, though: this assignment would require you to work with Jedi and a few members of the Republic military.  Work together with them."  She pauses to let that sink in.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:00, Thu 24 May 2012.

Oriana snorts, although whether in response to Hector's suggestion that she try 'redder pastures', or in response to the insinuation that she harbors romantic aspirations regarding the Duros is anyone's guess.

She pulls her glasses off her face, making a great show of polishing the lenses with the hem of her abbreviated tank top, as she thinks.  Kai always did say that staying alive was the most important thing, followed only by staying out of the slammer.  There's always the next shipment, and revenge is a dish best served cold, and all that.  He'd do the same, she concludes, donning her glasses once more, only to push them up atop her head.

"Why us?"

"Yeah," Hector agreed. "Why her?  And while I'm at it... what'd you do with my ship?" he asked, his eyes now focused on the General.  To be honest, he didn't have much of a problem working with Oriana.  It would give him a chance to show her just how much of a scumbag Kai Marigg had been, and why Hector was, obviously, the better man.  It had been a while since he'd had a woman aboard his ship, after all.  It would make things more interesting.

The general's frown remained.  "The Republic prototype ship is safely back in the hands of its owners.  Your ship will be impounded until further notice.  And it may yet be returned to you.  Now," she says, standing and leaning over the table, bracing on her hands, "I will not be discussing the terms of the assignment here."  She sighs, bowing her head a slight bit, before saying, "You'll get the details in a briefing tomorrow at 0900 hours, provided you agree to help."

"I've seen your ship, you're better off.  Where'd you get your engine mods, the bottom of a box of crunchbugs?" Oriana glances across the table and grins at Hector, although her next words are clearly directed to the General.

"So you want us to blindly agree to help, chosen for reasons that you won't tell us, with something that you can't tell us about.  You're not exactly selling the merits of taking this job," she turns back to the General, pulling her glasses back down and peering over their rims.

"What can you tell us, lady?"

"Yeah, she is the best," Hector replied, grinning all the same.  He wasn't about to get riled up just because she said something bad about his ship - especially since he knew it to be an outright lie.  She was more than likely just sour over the fact that she - and her boss - had lost to the better man.  Thus, sitting comfortable, Hector listened in as Oriana began to question the General.  He couldn't hold back his laughter for long.

"Sweetheart, when you're asked to deliver a crate, you don't ask what's inside." He turned to the General.  "You must be in a pretty desperate situation to be looking to people like her for help.  You can count me in.  Frankly, this sounds like fun."

"When I'm asked to deliver a crate, I at least know where I'm delivering it to," Oriana quips, shrugging nonchalantly.

The general sits back down.  "Frankly, you'll be embarking on Jedi business of which I, honestly, know little."  Her eminent displeasure with that seeps through her voice.  "But, they need someone to fly the ship, and," she continues, hanging on that word and slowly looking towards Oriana, "someone who knows everything about keeping that ship together."

Seemingly a fan of "letting things sink in," Garza, again, awaits your response.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 00:13, Fri 25 May 2012.

"Jedi business, huh?  Guess its better to not ask questions then, damn mystics," Hector replied.  He had no particular problem with the Jedi, other than the fact that the few he'd met had been rather full of themselves.  "So, I'm flyin' huh?  I like it.  So, I guess she's just along for the ride then, hmm?  Sounds good."

"Hah!"  Oriana barks a laugh, kicking her feet off the table and sitting upright for the first time since coming in.  "Guess it's your lucky day, Terrachova.  You get to know what it's like to fly a real ship before this Jedi business gets us all killed."

"I'm in, if just to watch him try to handle the Skyfisher."  She nods crisply to the General, adding, "And to keep an eye on my baby, of course."

She had been worried about what had happened to the ship, almost as much as she was worried about Marigg.  It didn't bode well that whatever the authorities were doing with him, it was sans the vessel, but at least she could try to make sure this peacock didn't pilot it into a space station.

Almost as an afterthought, she adds, sounding somewhat concerned, "The Jedi didn't request us, specifically, did they General?"

The officer is visibly relieved.  "Well.  That was much easier than I anticipated.  I was worried when it turned out you knew each other.  And no, Miss Cy'Kast, they simply needed an able pilot and technician, and we simply needed to find them on the cheap.  Are you implying the Jedi know of either of you?"

Hector only chuckled. "Sweetheart, you gotta learn to fly before you can comment on the ship," he said, leaving the discussion at that.  He already knew his ship was superior, and not just because Kai had tried so hard to steal it.

"I wouldn't say the Jedi know me specifically, although I may or may not have had relations with one..."  Relations that may or may not have ended badly.  He wasn't entirely sure, considering he hadn't been around to see exactly how things turned out, seeing as how he'd had to leave on a job before that.  The troubles of a mobile life.

"Just because I don't fly doesn't mean I can't.  Keep that in mind, before you do some damn fool thing like offer to teach me."  Oriana smirks smugly across the table at Hector, adding in a wink for good measure.  She knew he'd gotten away with that prototype, and that it was a sweet piece of engineering, but she knew full well that the Skyfisher had been the fastest ship in Hutt Space for three years running prior to getting caught in that military dragnet two weeks' back.

...and Terrachova's stolen prototype didn't change that one bit.

"Nah, no reason the Jedi should know me, just a precaution," she lies smoothly, turning back to the General.  "I'd have been worried if one of them had requested us specifically.  Never know if it's some kind of crazy prophecy, or who knows what."

Garza listens to the banter, piping in at the pause, "Do you have any further questions for me?"

"Yeah.  We get our personal effects back, right?  I'm feeling a little naked without guns or gear."

"What she said," Hector replied, referring to personal effects.  He, too, missed the weight of his blaster on his hip, as well as his other backup weapons.  But, he did have one more question for the General.  "General, you said the briefing would be tomorrow morning, so how 'bout I treat you to dinner?"  The grin he put on was his usual, half-cocky half-charming grin.  It might seem lecherous, if not for him having ulterior motives.  All other things aside, you could learn a lot about a person - a lot about what they knew, who they knew, and so on - over dinner.  Information was important in his line of work, after all.