Blast!  Clearly our timeline and theirs are going to be fudged slightly.  I'm going to guess, too, that the cockpit windows are facing the buildings, since that's the direction the boarding ramp opens, and it keeps the engine blast from hitting them?

---

Oriana laughs, ++"Something tells me that might not be conducive to our ability to take off in hurry, if we need to... Although I'm seriously contemplating coming back up there. There's nothing on the scanners now, and if anything shows up from air, I'm in the wrong spot anyway."++

I don't think its a big issue.  As long as we end up in the same place at the same time when we meet up, it should be all right.  Also, yeah, cockpit pointing at the building.

---

"++Up to you, though I can't imagine that seat is all that comfortable.  Besides, it takes like ten seconds to get from the cockpit and into a turret, so I don't see there being any problems with you joining me up here.  No problems with timing, at least.++"  Truth be told, having her company here in the cockpit was something Hector found himself already growing fond of.

"Less than ten, actually, if I'm going down.  Falling's faster than climbing."

Oriana's voice carries down the corridor and into the cockpit proper, preceding her appearance by only seconds.  She strides confidently into the cockpit, pausing in front of her seat to turn around, and hop up on the covered dome of the instrument panel.  As she kicks her feet up into the seat of the co-pilot's chair, she flashes a cheeky grin, "What, did you think I was going to wait for permission?"

Hector spun his chair around at the sound of Oriana's voice, and greeted her with a grin.  "Going down, huh?  Might need more than ten for that," he said, with barely a hint of a reaction to Oriana's slip up - rather, it wasn't a slip up, but her leaving an easy conversational opening.  "Perhaps.  It would make sense, with me being Captain of the ship and all.  Don't worry, I forgive you."

Oriana laughs, and behind her glasses, it's a safe bet that she's rolling her eyes.  "I dunno.  I'm pretty sure that if it takes much more than ten seconds to spool up one of the big guns, you're doing it wrong," she retorts, grinning broadly.  For a moment, she twists around and leans back, peering down at the scene on the ground through the transparisteel windows.  Then, without a word she rotates around and reaches for a trio of levers in front of Hector, flipping all three of them at once with the edge of her hand.  Three simultaneous *thunks* echo down the corridor from the starboard side of the ship, the sound of the airlocks around the boarding ramp sealing into place.

"Better safe than sorry, and thanks for the forgiveness... Captain."  She smirks, bracing her hands behind her on the console, so she can settle into a relaxed pose, lazily alternating between watching the door of the building, and glancing over the rims of her glasses at Hector.

"I suppose someone with experience might know how to do it better and thus... faster."  This was what he was growing fond of... it had been a while since he last had someone to talk with, one who could match him in this area.  He didn't mat an eye as she raised the boarding ramp, deciding that she was,in fact, correct.  "Yeah, wouldn't want someone to just... walk in on us."

He smirked, then leaned back and kicked his feet up on the console.  He was silent for a moment, before deciding now was as good a time as any to ask questions.  "So, when did you plan on telling me you were a Jedi but not a Jedi?"

"Do I look cut out for a monastic lifestyle of self-denial?"  She flashes Hector a brilliant grin, no hesitation at all in her voice as she responds.  It's almost like she's had to use that line before. More than once.

She catches the edge of her lower lip in her teeth, worrying at it slightly for a moment or two, seeming to be mentally weighing whether or not to truthfully answer his question.  It had been a long time since anyone had asked, much less anyone that she legitimately wanted to answer, and the Jedi on board sure weren't helping her keep anything secret.  With a thoughtful noise, she peels her glasses off and leans back on her hands, looking him in the eye, "Make you a deal?  For every question I answer, I get to ask one that gets answered."

"Definitely not.  You'd stand out too much as well.  Not nearly plain enough to be a Jedi," Hector replied, shaking his head.  He didn't take nearly as long to decide on an answer to her counter-offer, however.  He was a truthful guy, and there really wasn't anything harmful in his history - nothing that could be used against him, anyway.

"Sounds like a solid deal to me.  This is going to be fun."

Oriana chuckles, dragging a hand through her hair and nodding.  "Fair enough," she starts, pulling up one of her legs and resting her elbow upon her upraised knee.  "Do you know where little Jedi come from, Hector?  They're not what happens when two Jedi love each other very much..." She trails off, letting her sarcastic tone fade away.  "They're what happens when Jedi find little kids that can touch the Force, and snatch them away.  Oh, they say it's for little Benny," her eyes flicker to his face for a moment, "...or little Oriana's good.  That they'll have a better life, that they'll be dangerous if they aren't trained, but they're still yanking kids from their folks."

"I was three."

She leans back, glancing out the window again as she continues, "If you ask Duran, or Shanda, they'll tell you that anyone can walk away from the Order at any time, but how is a little kid with no credits, no friends, no family to call supposed to walk away? The answer is: they aren't.  They have to stay.  So I stayed, and sucked at it.  I'm not cut out for it, it's not my bag.  I kept thinking that if I just sucked enough, they'd kick me out.  When my initiate trials came up, I blew them on purpose - or at least I like to think I did, just hoping they'd let me go."

"They didn't." She shrugs and turns around, leaning on her upraised knee again.  "You ever wonder how it is Marigg survived you shooting him those three times, Hector?"

Hector listened intently, his grin faltering a bit to a frown.  Hearing this about the Jedi... it was so different from the way they wanted people to see them.  It was depressing, actually - and he didn't easily get depressed. "I can't say I'm surprised the Jedi work that way," he said, with a sigh.  He was about to ask another question, then remembered that he wouldn't get to until Oriana asked hers - which she promptly did.

"Actually, I am rather curious.  When I last saw, I pegged him in the head at least once.  You use some Force trick?"

"Yeah," she smiles a bit, settling her chin on top of her arm on her knee.  "Only thing I can do, actually, besides a couple of standard parlor tricks.  It's like..." She frowns for a moment, gesturing ineffectually with her hand, thinking of and discarding perhaps a half-dozen ways to describe it before finally settling on one.  "Like lending someone a bit of my life force, only the interest's a lot better than getting money from a Hutt."

Oriana's unable to resist  flashing her usual grin, at that.  "My turn," she interjects, lifting the hand that dangles off her knee, and gesturing at his face with her first two fingers.  "Where'd you get that?"

"Ahh... I think I've heard a story or two about Jedi doing that.  More than half of them resulted in the Jedi dying so another could live.  Seems a foolish power.  Useful, I suppose... but dangerous."  Hector simply nodded.  It did make sense though, given that he had been her Captain.  It only made sense for a first mate to want to save her Captain.  But now, it was his turn.

"Ahh, this?  Sexy, no?  Its a great story, actually."  He brought his foot down and leaned forward a bit towards her, as one would when telling a really intense story.  It was merely a reflex.  "See, I had taken a job transporting a team of Mandalorian Supercommandoes.  The real tough guys - guys even a Jedi Master would think twice about taking on.  Anyway, as you might know, the Mandos are more of a... coalition.  These guys were working for the Republic - or at least, their goal was to disrupt the Sith.  I was to drop them off at a disguised Sith research facility on Sullust, and pick them up after they'd completed their mission." His grin grew wider now.

"Things went wrong.  Apparently the place had been tipped off somehow, and they were waiting.  Mandos being Mandos, they went in anyway, and when they came out, they had company.  It was a fighting retreat, and it didn't look good.  Since I wasn't getting paid until we got out... I brought the ship in for a strafing run, then touched down to lend a hand with my own blaster.  I didn't have the armor they did, but I was still a fairly good shot back then."

"Anyway, while we dealt with the few chasers, one of the Mandos turned on me - came at me with one of those beskar blades.  Would've ran me through if I hadn't moved on instinct and thrown myself back.  Blade came close though - gave me this scar.  However, I got my blaster up, rammed it right into his chin between the helmet and neckguard, and put a full-auto burst into him.  He didn't get back up."  Hector leaned back now, clearly pleased with himself.

"I only learned after the fact - after they searched his gear - that he had tipped the place off.  His plan hadn't gone so well though, and he paid for it.  Now, the other Mandos... well, you can imagine their surprise when they saw me standin' over him.  When one a'them goes down, its usually to a tank or something.  Since I had managed to kill one of the biggest badasses of the 'verse, and got them out safely, not only did I get paid, but they made me an honorary Supercommando, and thus certified the name of my ship as well."  He sighed, remembering the day.  It had been a good day.  The healing process, of course, had not.  But, now it was his turn to ask a question - and he already knew what to ask.

"So, you grew up with the Jedi, and they didn't make it easy to leave.  How did you get out?"

Oriana listened intently, caught up in the story, and thoroughly amused by just how smug Hector looked while telling it.  She'd never admit it, but she was impressed. Mandalorians were not to be fucked with, and to do it without armor and not only win, but come out with barely a scratch?  The man had balls and skill.  Still, she couldn't resist a bit of teasing as he finished, punctuated with a broad grin, "You don't look like a Supercommando."

Oriana twists around to look out the window again, almost using the motion to change the subject.  Her eyes scan the darkening courtyard below, and she hesitates for a moment, licking her lips nervously.  "You can't tell Duran or Shanda."  She spins around, leaning forward and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial level.  "I bombed my Initiate's Trials, right?  So I wouldn't be fit to be a padawan, so I could go home.  I didn't know, then, that being able to heal in wartime just means you get a guaranteed spot in the Jedi Service Corps' MedCorps.  Lucky me." Her mouth twists slightly, and it's obvious that her annoyance at this railroading hasn't faded much in the ensuing years.  "I mean, I was good at it.  You wouldn't have that scar, if I'd been around. But still..."

She shrugs, "We were on a shuttle to Ord Radama.  It went down before we could land.  I don't know if it was shot down, or the engines went, or what.  I wasn't but twelve, and didn't know a damn thing about starships at the time."    She sighs, dragging her hands over her face as if to wipe a memory away, before looking him in the eye.  "I ran, Hector.  I stabilized everyone that wasn't already dead, and I ran for the first outpost with a freighter heading off that rock that would take me.  Took me half a year, and twenty-seven hops to get back to Nar Shaddaa."

"I'm not sure they wouldn't haul me right back," she adds after a long pause.  To a cage, disguised as a temple, to enjoy a monastic lifestyle that she was most decidedly ill-suited for, and did not want.

"Why smuggling?  If you can drop a Mandalorian like that, you could've been a big shot in someone's military."

"See, that's what I said.  But then they told me if I didn't accept, then the name f my ship would be taken as a cruel joke, and I'd feel their wrath.  You know how it is."  He shrugged, as if that were business as usual.  Then, of course, he settled in for Oriana's story.

As he listened... Hector couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her, even though that was likely not what she wanted from him.  It was impressive that she had such skill with healing, particularly with her mention of his scar.  The cut had been rather deep - to clear that up with no scar would be some feat of magic.  Then came her story of the shuttle crash.  It was clear enough that she was still torn over the decision she'd made - and he would be too.  Stay, and be stuck with an Order you didn't fit in with, or leave, and risk being branded a coward.

"Honestly, that makes my childhood seem like sunshine and puppies.  I doubt I'd have been brave enough to leave like that at that age," Hector said, with a light chuckle.  "Don't worry though.  Not a word of this will leave my lips - certainly not to our Jedi tag-alongs." He made sure to look her in the eye when he said this, so she knew he meant it.  A moment later, he let out a laugh and broke into a wide grin.

"Honestly, d'you really see me in a military uniform, givin' or takin' orders?  Skill is one thing, but you gotta be able to take orders in the military, and that's something I'm not the greatest at.  Plus, the way I hear it, drill sergeants don't like being told they're idiots when they're being idiots." He shrugged.  "As for smuggling... I guess cause its in my blood.  My mother was a smuggler, and I learned all I know from her.  Hell, even grew up on the ship.  Can't honestly see myself in any other role." He leaned back... that was honestly the best answer he had, and now it was his turn.

"Since that's probably not the kind of answer you were probably hoping for, I'll give ya an easy one this time."  He grinned up at Oriana, with one of his best 'smuggler smiles'.  "How'd you get so damn sexy?"

At this point, the ground team has gone into the building.  The door slides shut behind them.

"No. No they do not like being told that." Oriana grins as she listens.  He's right, she can't picture him, either of them really, taking orders from some overblown stuffed uniform.  Jury was still out on whether or not Captain Komad was going to fall into that category, though.  "Ship brat, mm? That explains a lot," she laughs, and it did.  She'd known lots of them on Nar Shaddaa: some of them bullies that terrorized the other kids in port, others that had come through regularly enough to become intermittent friends.  All of them with the same self-important bravado, so carefully cultivated.

"How'd I get so damn sexy?" she echoes, laughing with genuine surprise and amusement.  This, this was not a question she expected.  She studies the ceiling of the cockpit for a second, and stretches her legs out, propping one foot atop the other in the seat of the co-pilot's chair.  A thoughtful noise escapes her, and she lets her head swivel down to where she can peer over the rims of her glasses at him, flashing a brilliantly cocky grin of her own.

"It's my mechanical aptitude.  Once guys know a girl can dismantle a sublight drive, and strip a turbolaser, it's only a matter of time before they start wondering what she can do with... other things."  Oriana punctuates this teasing by giving him a rather blatant visual appraisal, peeling off her glasses and leaning back on her hands in the process.

She laughs, and glances down at the scanner screen briefly, before her eyes settle on his once more, smirking as her own loaded question comes to mind.  "Why do you ask?"

While waiting for an answer, she blinks, seeming distracted for a handful of seconds, before shaking her head as if to clear it, and settling her smile on him once more.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:11, Tue 05 June 2012.

PM
[Private to Oriana Cy'Kast:  "A sense of wariness and suspicion with a hint of hope passed from Duran's mind and a single word, well question, 'Fine?'"]

Counter-PM action: GO!

[Private to GM:  15:05, Today: Secret Roll: Oriana Cy'Kast rolled 29 using 1d20+11. UtF: Telepathy.

A calm sense of amusement in return, "Absolutely. You?"

Editing into the previous post to include Ori's moment of pause and concentration for that. :)]

Hector seemed to think for a moment, before he answered.  It was indeed a loaded question, and he had two answers he could give her.  He could go with the answer he would've told most women... or he could go with the truthful answer.  In the end, he decided on the latter.

"Because I wanted to know more about you," he replied, grinning still - unfazed by the appraisal.  "What you just told me was what you value most about yourself - what you have worked hard to achieve or maintain, and what you're proud of.  Ask that question of most women, and you'll usually get a reply about their looks or their confidence, or how they act."  He gave her a shrug followed by his smuggler smile.

"Knowing that information gives me a better target for flirting.  I've found that complimenting a woman on things she perceives as faults can be effective, but complimenting what she has worked hard to maintain and is proud off tends to pay off a lot more." He nodded towards Oriana. "So now I know that, in general, compliments to your technical skills will probably be better received than other things."

"But in this case, I wasn't really asking it as a means to get in your pants.  It was more about getting to know a little more about you.  Of course, you are right about one thing, I have been wondering just how good those miracle hands of yours are."  Bringing his hands together in his lap, he gave her an appraising look now while he considered his next question. "I suppose I'll ask the question you asked me earlier.  Why mechanics, why starships?  What made you get into the trade?"

"Well, maybe you'll get to find out... possibly without something blowing up." Oriana smiles, in that teasingly confident way she has, taking a moment to key up the commlink to the team on the ground before answering his question.  "Everything okay down there, Captain?"

She shrugs and sits up, idly fiddling with the various toggles and switches on the Skyfisher's intrumentation panels while she answers.  "You know the Jekk-Jekk Tarr, on Nar Shaddaa?  There's a little machine shop around the corner," she flashes a grin, and laughs.  "Okay, it's not 'little', it's run by the Herglic - you know it?  That's Kinbo, he used to let me sleep in the corner of the shop, in return for helping with the delicate work."  Oriana pauses here, and wiggles her fingers as a means of emphasizing the size difference of her hands, versus a Herglic's.

"Taught me everything I know.  Told you I used to run errands out of the cantinas to make a living: lot of those were parts fetching, setting up appointments with Kinbo and such.  Delivery just kind of gradually turned into offering to install the parts, too, to make some extra cred on the side.  One day, some smuggler was dumb enough to take me on and make it permanent."  She smirks, leaving it up to his imagination as to whether or not that smuggler was Marigg, or someone else.

"I like it.  I like being able to take all the pieces of the puzzle, and fit them together into something that works.  Bonus points if I can make things exceed their expectations - and I can usually make things exceed their expectations." She grins, tossing in a wink for good measure.  "It's not as flashy as being the pilot.  No one really knows or cares who built a freighter, but it's... satisfying, in a lot of ways."

"I can do weapons, too," she adds, almost as an afterthought.  "Not just starships."  Her eyes flicker to the blaster at his hip for a moment, before she reaches down and pulls her own.  Quick as a flash, she spins the weapon around half a turn, holding it out grip first.  "It's more accurate than yours." There's not the slightest bit of hesitation in that statement, she knows her work, and she knows blasters.

A smirk plays at the corners of her lips as she ponders her next choice of questions.  "How many women are waiting for you in port?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:50, Tue 05 June 2012.

You get no response from Seely.

[Private to Oriana Cy'Kast: However, you hear back from Duran - "Okay, learning more now."]

"I know of the place, although I tend to stay away from the area.  Don't have too many friends around there you see," Hector said, nodding all the same.  From the sounds of it, she had gotten rather lucky - a trademark of their chosen lifestyle, it seemed.  Still, it was nice to know that, even on the smuggler's moon, there were beings considerate enough to take in a kid in their time of need.  And a Herglic too, fancy that.

Hector wasn't surprised to hear that she was just as capable with prsonal weaponry as well.  He accepted her blaster, and held it as though he were aiming down the sights, pointed at the door of the cockpit.  It was a similar model to his own, in fact.  As he had mentioned before, a big gun for a lady.  He nodded approvingly and handed it back, grip first.  He had purposely let her comment about finding out go, replying only with a suggestive raise of his eyebrow.  Her next question didn't come as much of a surprise though, given what he has said earlier.

"Oh, no more than one or two.  Despite what some might think, I try to make sure the women know what they're getting into with me - that its not aimed at being anything long-term, usually.  Sometimes though, they clong on despite what I've said.  Though, I do have a few women in ports that were looking for the same thing, and wih whom I've remained on good terms with over the years.  Always good to have contacts in as many ports of call as possible.  A warm bed isn't something to arue against either."  He chuckled, figuring this shouldn't come as much of a surprise given what she knew of him.  "Have you ever broken any hearts, so to speak?  I can't imagin a woman like you going about ignored by men.  Or women, if you're into that sort of thing.  I don't judge."

"That's a pity, not having friends around there.  You'd love my favorite, the Blue Light; best liquors on all of Nar Shaddaa, imported from all over the galaxy.  Real Corellian brandy, even," she adds with a grin, slipping her blaster back into the holster on her thigh.

She wasn't surprised at all by his answer, but hearing it out loud was better than speculation.  She'd seen enough fights in the cantinas, when local women found their men had engaged in a little extracurricular activity while on transport runs, to know to stay far, far away from that.  Hell, one of the boys on Marigg's crew, they'd had to replace him on the last run because his woman had shot him over that incident with those twins.  Lucky bastard had missed the Republic dragnet because of it, too.

A smirk plays at the corners of her lips, remembering the scene, and she shakes her head.  Offering him a grin and a shrug, she calmly retorts, "Have to deal with men that have hearts, to break 'em."

The statement in and of itself was true enough.  Most of the males in their chosen line of work were heartless bastards, out for the biggest score.  Most of the women, too, for that matter.  Still, she felt the need to elaborate.  "Maybe a few.  I'm a little picky, it's been a while.  It doesn't really work the same way for us girls, you know?  If you're only in port for a few days, and you're shackin' up with someone, your crews start to think you're easy.  Hell, everyone starts to think you're easy." She chuckles, a wry smirk crossing her face.  "A crew that thinks you're easy starts to think they should get some too, even if you don't wanna.  That's a mistake you don't make twice, trust me."

She pauses there, closing her eyes for a moment.  "They're out of comm range.  They shouldn't be out of comm range," she comments, opening her eyes and frowning.  "They're okay, though," she hastily adds.

Oriana hops off the console and moves to her seat, propping her feet up where she'd been sitting.  She rolls her head to the side, lifting an eyebrow and watching him quietly for a minute or two.  Once or twice she opens her mouth and starts to say something, only to rethink her choice of question and close it again, before finally asking, "What's your honest opinion of this 'mission' we've gotten ourselves into?"

It is about now that you both notice a few blots in the sky above Coronet, in the far distance.  Focusing your eyes more closely, it would appear some of the invading Sith capital ships have entered atmosphere above the city, and are probably dispensing troops this very minute.

"I suppose that makes sense.  I don't agree with it though... seems stupid to judge women on a different basis than men for the same actions." He did note that she seemed to have alluded to having made the very mistake she was talking about, although he didn't say anything about it.  He figured that, if it had been that important, she might have mentioned it - that, or she wasn't about to talk about it to begin with.

"That really is a handy bit of power you've got there," Hector said, grinning.  "And, I wager the building itself is causing some interference.  We'd know if it was a trap by now I bet."  He leaned back once more, glancing out the window as she asked her question - after going through multiple choices, it seemed.

"Honestly?  I think its idiotic and suicidal.  That," he said, gesturing out the window at the approaching dreadnaughts, "lends some credit to the theory.  I know those Jedi visions are supposed to be spot on and all, but this is just a feeling.  Its idiotic.  I suppose I'll ask the same question of you, actually.  What are your thoughts?"