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| - Spaceport -- Imperial City The Imperial City spaceport is one of a countless number of spaceports that litter the surface of Coruscant like craters on a moon. This particular spaceport, the largest, is a multistory complex built atop a triad of towers which loom over all adjacent buildings like a mythological giant. Of the spaceports myriad of hangars and areas, none is more pivotal than the CUSTOMS and Immigration area near the gated exit. Of all the other connecting accessways, most link the main spaceport with smaller, private hangars or storage areas. New Republic soldiers stand at each of these accessways, friendly and congenial, but always on the alert. ____________________________________________________________________________ Markus A man in his late twenties, he appears to be a little bit more than six feet. He sports his silver white hair cropped short. The large brown inquisitive eyes, along with his full black eyebrows, seem to be attentive all the time. His skin is a tanned white, along with the hard jaw line and well-defined nose and the short stubs he sports as a beard, give this man a look between a gentleman and a scoundrel. His lips, almost constantly in an impish grin, along with the sparkle on his eyes project a very fiery personality. His body looks to be well maintained and built; strong, and definitely in shape. He is currently wearing a light gray long sleeved shirt. The sleeves folded half up his arms. Over it, he wears a sleeveless black jacket that obviously has seen one too many days. The dark black pants, worn loosely and fitted to perfection, seem comfortable enough in him. Everything is complemented by a set of dark gray boots that definitely have seen better times. Simon Before you is a young human male of average height and narrow build. His hair is a deep brown, parted and cut short. A strong jawline and deepset eyes of blue-grey give the man a stern look at a glance. For facial hair he wears a well groomed goatee and mustache, trimmed short and of the same deep color as the rest of his hair. All in all, the man's demeanor can be summed up in a word: aware. Simon is dressed in earth tones. Light tan, loose fitting trousers are tucked into soft leather boots that come up to just under his knees, and are tied tight with brown, leather chords. Tucked into the top of his pants is a simple shirt of a matching color. Over this is a loose wool tunic of dark brown, covering his arms completely and hanging down below his waiste. It's comfortable clothing, suitable for most climates and cultures. Mira What can be seen of this woman under the large, grubby cloak that she wears isn't a whole lot. One might be able to tell that she is small and wiry, almost painfully thin. The bottom of the cloak drags on the ground, and looks frayed, as if it has been trod upon often. The hood of the dirty, dusty cloak that she wears manages to throw a shadow over most of her face, leaving it mostly obscured. A clump or two of frazzled, dark hair finds its way out of the cloak's hood to stick out at odd and unnatural angles away from her face. Tarroc Of average build and a height of more then six feet, the human before you is certainly in fairly good shape. His hazel eyes, the color of a turning autumn leaf, peer out from an expressive face. He conducts himself in a very reserved and cool manner -- his movements are all measured and methodical. As far as his age goes, it would appear he's in his early twenties, but his eyes betray experience beyond his years. His dirty-blond hair is cut in a fairly conventional fashion, kept out of his eyes. However, it seems to have grown past naval regulations as of late. When he speaks, it is with the savvy of a seasoned veteran; despite his age, he definitely has a commanding presence. Possessed of a quiet confidence, he no longer has the personality of a young officer, unable to commit to a decision; this has been replaced with a certain sureity of what has to be done, and his ability to do it. Despite this apparent change in personality, his eyes somehow hold a certain serenity to them; his expression could be best described as pacific. For once, Tarroc is wearing garb befitting his station. And while the dress uniforms of the New Republic military don't quite make the fashion statement that a screaming orange flightsuit does, Tarroc seems content in this different clothing. Tan vestments and black pants constitute the majority of the outfit; his rank insignia and shoulder epaulettes seem to serve only to offset the overall blandness of his attire. His customary black boots are worn, laced tightly -- for once. ____________________________________________________________________________ After exchanging a few words with the curious stranger, Markus once more finds himself with some spare time on his hands. He looks again up the landing bay of the ship he is standing close by, the White Ghost, and frowns as still nobody seems to come in. "Well, I guess Simon must be meditating or something... I wonder if Mira is awake...", the young man walks up the ramp a few steps, "Mira?", he calls out into the ship somewhat loudly. "Excuse me? Sir?" A voice comes from nearby and to the right of Steiner, and it turns out to belong to Enb'Zik, "Regent Imperium Jonathan Steiner, Netzt?" Zik stands where he's at, watching the human with some measure of certainty and waiting as if expecting a reply before he continues. The sounds of ships entering and leaving the starport create a constant, dull throbbing, but audible conversation is easy enough. Jonathan turns his head after a moment, looking towards Enb and he offers a slight nod of his head, shifting to face him, "Yes? Is there something I can do for you?" Several minutes after Markus calls her name into the ship, Mira appears, not from the ramp, but from somewhere among the ships in the spaceport, as if she had been wandering around a little. And indeed, she had been doing just that when she had felt that it was time to return to the ship. So, styrofoam cup in hand, filled with a few smal demonination credit chips, she does just that. Walking up to Markus, she pauses and asks, "What? Did you want something?" This seems like a logical thing for her to say, despite the fact that she had just arrived in the area and had been two hangar bays over when he had called her. What a strange girl. Enb'Zik smiles, making the last few steps as Steiner gives him a sort of go-ahead with the acknowledgement of his existence. His expression turns from curiousity to friendliness, "Nothing in particular, Sir. I actually came over to take a look at these two ships, but it was an added bonus to notice you standing here, as well. My name is Ikihsa Enb'Zik. I used to fly starfighters for the CDF, though now I race swoops for a living." He motions toward the pair of Rays, "Absolutely beautiful ships!" As a matter of fact, Simon had been meditating. The buzz and bother of Coruscant was a few degrees beyond what the man could usually handle. The image of killer bees swarming about around their hive kept coming to Simon's mind, and he was hoping that he could find some sort of inner peace through meditation inside the _White Ghost_. From the look in his eye as he steps into view at the top of the ramp, it's hard to say if it did him any good. "Greetings, Markus Lisardis," he says in a tight voice. Looking about the area, he takes a few steps further down the ramp, then lets out a sigh of relief when his gaze lands upon Mira coming into view. "Ah. I was afraid she was lost," he comments. Steiner chuckles softly as he nods his head, "Ahh, I knew you looked familiar. I believe I may have raced with you at one point." He looks back towards the Rays, "They are quite nice....very good to handle in space as well. Markus almost jumps up, as Mira addresses him. He was really expecting the girl to be /inside/ the the ship, not out wandering around. "Where were you?", the Corellian asks, concerned but his expression softenining at the sight of the girl and realizing she is alright. Slowly, brown eyes move to the cup, and Markus arches an eyebrow. "And what were you doing?", he adds as an afterthought. Simon's arrival doesn't seem to spook Markus' that much, at least his other companion was arriving from the expected location. The young man walks down the ramp himself, to make room for Simon, "Greetings.", he responds smiling, for just a moment as Simon makes a reference to Mira's escape, the thought of something happening to the girl creating creating a frown on his face. He says nothing about it, though, waiting for Mira to explain her whereabouts. Enb'Zik blinks and looks momentarily surprised, "No kidding? Division two on the Galactic Circuit?" There are a lot of people in the galaxy who race swoops part time, as if it were a hobby, but the Sullustan is one of only a few full-time, professional racers. "I had no idea that you were a racer. It's an exhilerating sport, really." Again directing his gaze upward, now at the belly of the sleek Mantaray, Zik continues, "I've never seen one of these this close before. Only in manuals.." He seems pleased to be within an arm's reach of the machines. Steiner nods his head once more, "Professionally. Havn't done so in a couple months though, been preoccupied with other things." He looks back towards the vessel, "Feel free to examine them if you wish." Steiner chuckles softly, "You'd gain no extra information from examing the outside then you would from reading books on them." Generally speaking, one of Tarroc D'agor's station would not have stoop to repairing their own fightercraft. Of course, Tarroc -- like many other New Republicans -- is nigh impossible to generalize. Though he would normally complain about the task, in actuality the young General insists on tending to his own ship. This is due in part to the fact that his piloting style demands maintenance more than should be necessary, but also because he truly enjoys the work. That is, except when his R2 unit, Dizzy, decides to make things more difficult by running his emitter box. Excessively, and at great length. So Tarroc can be found beneath the undercarriage of his X-wing, hydrospanner in hand. Truth be told he isn't making much headway because nearly every other breath is wasted beseaching his astromech to shut up. Mira looks between her cup and Markus. Then to Simon. Then back to her cup. Taking a rather obvious moment to take the coins out of the cup and dump them casually in her pocket, she says, "I was just looking around," she answers at last, blinking innocently. She doesn't mention what she had been doing with the cup, or where the money had come from. But she had found that the way she hobbled around with the broken ribs had been quite lucrative. She would store that fact away from further notice. As if to direct the attention away from her, she looks to Simon and asks, almost accusatorily, "And where have you been?" Enb'Zik chuckles, "I suppose that is a true statement, Sir." He walks around the fighter and finally stops, his hand still against her metal skin but now beneath the starboard fuselage. He stands there, soaking the fighter in with his eyes until he finally calms his boyish exuberance and chuckles as he recognizes it for what it is. Turning back toward Steiner, he finally removes his hand and smiles, "I'm sure that was probably odd. She's an admirable ship." Steiner nods his head once more as he smiles slightly, "People have been worse around these ships. I've had one person try and purchase it off of me." Enb'Zik finds himself laughing, "Hey, I can't say I blame them. I'd try myself if I thought I had half a snowball's chance on Tatooine. How much does one of these go for, anyway?" Not that they're available to non-military staff, he knows that, but it's interesting trivia if nothing else. With apprehension obvious on his countenance, Simon turns his gaze about the area, then up at the sky above, cluttered with traffic and unliving flying objects. Birds couldn't exist on a planet like this. Rivers would have long since been channeled into man-made reservoirs, fields where trees would have grown would have been long covered over by concrete and steel. Nature itself was laid to rest on this planet, and the pain of the loss doesn't escape Simon. He shakes his head as he follows Markus the rest of the way down the ramp of the _White Ghost_, then looks over at Mira as she asks her question in a firm tone. "I was resting," Simon says simply. He cocks his head as he looks at Mira, imagining her as a small woodland creature, like a ferret. That was what she was like... a ferret. He continues, "You should be cautious, Little Sister. There is a strange feeling to this place. We would do well to stay close and find the Jedi Luke Skywalker soon." Frowning, he once more turns his gaze about the area, as if that were the way to find him. Steiner chuckles softly, "They sell for around 130K, and your right, you wouldn't have a chance of getting one." Enb'Zik laughs, "Oh, I know. Believe me. Getting any military to sell their hardware is like trying to pull the horns off a rabid tauntaun. It just isn't going to happen." Chuckling, he takes a step back and crosses his arms, "So, are you going to be racing at Selene?" A few twists of the wrist, a button or two pressed and a little gentle persuasion (read: a light smack) and the hyperdrive motivator registers nominal once more. His work completed, Tarroc drags himself out from under his ship and starts up the ladder to replace his tools in storage. Meanwhile, R2-DZ7 warbles something to the effect of, "Took you long enough." Markus nods his agreement with Simon. He had seen the cup, and the credits, but he saw no reason to ask the girl about it, specially here in public. "Try to let us know if you leave.", Markus asks, with a gentle tone full of concern. "You are a big girl, and you have the right to leave on your own if you want, but I...", the Corellian bows his head down. "I was worried.", he tries to smile at the words. "And Simon is right.", Markus adds, I don't know what it is but I also have an odd feeling about it. Hopefully, we will meet Skywalker soon...", And then what? Will the nightmares be gone? The Corellian sighs hopefully, "Until then, we should probably stick together. But as I said, you are free to go wherever you want." There is an internal battle going on the young man, that much would be obvious. On one side, his concern for Mira was great... and he rather the girl didn't go running on her own. But there was also the fact that although he saw her as a little sister, she was an individual that didn't have to go along with their wishes, if she didn't want to. With Steiner gone, Enb'Zik turns to make his way back toward his own ship. He didn't have any particular reason for coming to Coruscant tonight. He'd considered a drink, but then decided that he wasn't really in the mood. Walking back to the Mutan, he pauses beside one of the landing struts and simply observes the sentients about the hangar. Enb'Zik enters in a code and enters STARSHIP: Sienar Lambda Class Shuttle -- Mnrrr-eau'a ea Mutan Enb'Zik has left. "Oh," Mira answers just as simply, a cheerful smile appearing on her face. Unlike Marcus and Simon, however, she didn't get any strange feelings about Coruscant. Nothing like what she felt back in the cantina on Corellia. Or afterwards in the spaceport. Here it was busy, but less eerie. But despite the fact she felt relatively safe, she replies, "I'll let you know where I"m going from now on. I'm sorry to have worried you. I was just poking around and exploring. Everything here is very tall." Whatever Simon felt about Coruscant, there were certain aspects of human nature that he would not be able to avoid. While facilities were present on boad the _White Ghost_ to take care of sanitary needs, there was little in the way of food, unless Simon discovered some stash of rations Markus had stowed away. And even then, what would he do with rations? When you hunt and kill your own food most of your life, spacer's rations look like bricks. Putting his hands on his stomach... his sides still panged from the damage his ribs had taken recently... he looks between Markus and Mira, saying, "Have either of you found a place to eat? If we are to survive here, we will need to keep our strength." Despite the prattling of his droid, Tarroc begins to pick up an anomoly of sorts among the comers and goers of the spaceport. Sensing for those with special affinities has been an ability that Tarroc has become practiced at, and he's relatively certain that there may even be one of the Jedi discipline here as well. It is merely a matter of localizing them, a task which he sets himself upon immediately. And though he scans the horizon for good measure, for him to truly find his quarry he stretches out his senses with the Force. "Good point. I have some food in the ship, but no point in using it up if we can find some out here.", Markus offers in agreement again with Simon. "I haven't done much exploring, so I don't know myself. We can walk some, to see if we see something.", and with those words he walks back to the White Ghost, to make sure the ship is securely locked. The Corellian turns to Mira then, grinning, "It's alright, Mira. I know you didn't do it on purpose. I was just worried, that's all. Foolish me, you are a big girl.", a chuckle and Markus scratches his head, "But I guess you may have found a place to eat in your exploring?", he chuckles again, but slowly stops. He doesn't feel a thing, or does he? A small shiver, perhaps for some reason. "I guess we should start moving." "I have some food on the ship too!" Mira exclaims. Perhaps that was what in those paper bags of hers. The paper bags that were starting to develop a rather interesting odor. An odor that was starting to permeate the entire ship. But as she is asked about a place to eat, her mouth quirks to one side. "Well, I saw a small vendor over one landing pad. He was selling nerfdogs. But I haven't left the spaceport," she explains. The spaceport was an ideal place for doing what she was doing. Lots of people. Lots of spare change floating around. "It was over this way," she says, pointing down a row of ships and off to another platform filled with ships. "Let's go this way though. Maybe we'll find something better." She got the feeling that something more interesting was waiting for them in a slightly more roundabout route. And she trounces off in teh direction of the approaching Tarroc. Danger has been something Simon has been looking for in every shadow, on every face since coming to Coruscant. There was something about this place that gave Simon the creeps, and it was more than just the lack of natural vegetation. Perhaps it was some lingering emotional footprint left by the long deceased Emperor. Perhaps it was the presence of Luke Skywalker, somewhere on the planet. Whatever it was, Tarroc's reaching toward the Force sets off another sensation for Simon. Frowning, he begins to turn his eyes about the area... someone nearby was drawing upon the True Source. "Perhaps Jedi Luke Skywalker has found us," Simon says quietly to Mira and Markus. Too quietly... as Mira bounds off without hearing him. Grinding his teeth, he moves after her, his right hand straying near his waist so as to draw his weapon quickly if needed. Perhaps it was Jedi Luke Skywalker... or perhaps it was something or someone else. With the practiced ease of a flyboy, Tarroc jumps off the foil of his X-wing and starts in the general direction of the trio he detected, hardly even breaking stride as he lands. Despite his experiences, the better part of valor has yet to be caution for the pilot turned Jedi. This isn't to say he throws it to the wayside, of course -- he just certainly isn't as guarded as Simon. At first, Markus just nods at Mira, ready to follow the girl. The truth was that he was also hungry, and rations weren't that appetitizing anymore. "Well, lead on. You are the expert now.", he teases Mira, reaching out to warmly pat her on the shoulder. Whatever he felt before, had been completely dismissed by the Corellian. That is, until Simon speaks up again. This makes Markus pause, and he reaches out to try and hold Mira from wandering off. He didn't understand how whatever it was that Simon use worked, but he imagined his friend must be picking something up. "What's up? Feeling something?", he asks, now taking the time himself to scan the area for anything strange going on. But so far, there is nothing he can see. Salonika steps off of his shuttle followed closely by two military men dressed a civilianly as possible. He tries not to make eye contact with anyone as he moves through the spaceport. Feeling Markus's hand upon her shoulder, Mira stops and turns to look curiously at him, only to find him questioning Simon. So she, too, turns her gaze to Simon, only to find him scanning the area. Following his lead, she flicks her eyes around the spaceport, turning slowly in a 360 degree circle. Coming around so that the man with the lightstaff is once again in front of her, she asks, "Yeah, what?" She didn't see anything. Nothing obvious, anyway. Simon is trained, but he is far from perfect at honing his senses to the point where he can easily identify someone that can wield the True Source. If he were, he would been even more certain of what he suspected Markus and Mira were. As it was, he just knew when someone reached toward the True Source in his presence the way one knew when a fly landed upon their skin. It was a delicate touch, and if he hadn't been listening to his instincts so closely, he would have missed it. Even still, it becomes readily obvious who it was he sensed as the man makes his obvious approach. Stopping as Mira stops, taking comfort in the presence of both Markus and Mira, Simon narrows his eyes and studies Tarroc. Was it the Jedi Luke Skywalker? Somehow, he'd imagined the man to be taller... a giant of a man. Tarroc is certainly not a master himself. And though he can glean that the intentions of these three do not seem untoward, he can determine little more. He does note, of course, that Simon is a little wary to say the least, and responds accordingly. Stopping at a respectable distance of roughly three meters, he bows cordially and proffers a simple, "Welcome to Coruscant." Of course, a disarming half-smile accompanies the greeting -- anyone who knew Tarroc would not question the genuinity, but of course he is unknown to these people. After straightening, he surveys the group hopefully. Markus turns to Mira, a thoughtful expression his face. He shrugs at her question, not having the answer himself. He believes he had seen a picture of Skywalker at some point, but his memory is not exactly registering what the man should look like. And it probably wouldn't anyway. As Tarroc approaches them, Markus' face doesn't show anything, except for a very curious expression. This is not the first time the group had been approached by strangers, and it was starting to feel like an usual ocurrence. "My thanks.", he responds, inclining his own head. The young man is still frowning, and he looks to the others for reactions. "Is there something we could help you with?", is his next question towards Tarroc. Ethan emerges from the CEC YT-2400 -- Expatriate. Ethan has arrived. "Hi," Mira replies, growing used to random people paying attention to them. It seemed to happen a lot ever since she met up with Markus and Simon. She doesn't even give Tarroc the blank stare she had been giving strangers up to this point. What progress. As an added bonus, she even lifts her hand, covered in the cloak sleeves taht are too long for her, in a brief wave. And, having learned that drifting off and daydreaming was usually an invitation for something wholly unexpected to happen, she even pays attention to what is going on, looking attentively between Markus, who had become the unofficial speaker of the group, and the stranger. Tarroc's greeting is reminiscent enough of the ritual greeting of the Telgosse that Simon naturally follows suit. Just as Markus speaks to Tarroc, Simon places his right fist into his left palm at chest level, then bows at the waist. His head is held forward so that his eyes stay on Tarroc and as he straightens, he says, "I am Simon Sezirok, at your service." The whole gesture and intonation of the words is done smoothly enough to make it look as if the man had done it many times, while still carrying a tone that suggests a certain formality. With the ritual greeting done, he turns half his attention back to Markus and Mira. As usual, it is only natural and right for the outworlder to let either of them take the lead in conversation. His thick, slurring accent had earned more stairs than the weapon clipped to his belt. Until Corellia, anyway. Markus turns to Mira, a thoughtful expression his face. He shrugs at her question, not having the answer himself. He believes he had seen a picture of Skywalker at some point, but his memory is not exactly registering what the man should look like. And it probably wouldn't anyway. As Tarroc approaches them, Markus' face doesn't show anything, except for a very curious expression. This is not the first time the group had been approached by strangers, and it was starting to feel like an usual ocurrence. "My thanks.", he responds, inclining his own head. The young man is still frowning, and he looks to the others for reactions. "Is there something we could help you with?", is his next question towards Tarroc. Of course, Chandrilan custom would dictate that Tarroc keep talking, but Tarroc's status as a Jedi and General of the New Republic shape his mannerisms as much as his culture. He pauses a moment to rub his chin, then comments, "Ah, well... I wouldn't want to presume too much, but I think I may be able to help you..." he trails off, then blinks twice in rapid succession. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? My name is Tarroc D'agor." A faint apologetic tone can be detected in his mellifluous core world accent. The landing ramp of a nearby freighter hisses open, robed legs slowly making their way down it as if the owner of those legs were thinking carefully about each step before he makes it. Methodical. Ethan comes into view, followed closely by a scruffy looking Nek panting a long black tongue from the side of its mouth. The man pauses at the bottom, eyes veiled behind an ebon blast visor. He seems to be looking for someone but.. is he looking? -- His eyesight stolen from him recently, the young man stretches forth with his feelings.. touching the nearby beings.. the recent practice in the enormous senate chamber had given him a range of sensation he hadn't had just days before.. the dim grey outlines of ships can be sensed, moving about them in a myriad of color are the sentient life forms.. each one unique in his mind.. some so beautiful in their force imprint that it nearly leaves him breathless. Some.. he was quickly finding out, so dark and murky.. it made him naseous just focusing on them.. The beings nearby were vivid.. amiable.. at least one he recognized by sensation alone.. General D'agor, one of the Jedi at the school... he was speaking with others. For the moment, Ethan decided to stand back, and not interfere. Bram on the other hand, browlfs raucously in the direction of Tarroc, a thick bloop of slobber dropping from his tongue like honey. "My friend has already introduced himself.", Markus adds, allowing a small smile to appear. "My name is Markus Lisardis.", there is a pause in which Markus waits for Mira to introduce herself. Suddenly, there is a pricking sensation again, on the back of his neck. Which makes Markus frown for a moment. Markus then studies Tarroc, arching an eyebrow. "You may be able to help us?", there is a pause and Markus scratches his head, "Look, if you want to sell us something, we are not buying right now.", he states, matter of factly. Tarroc's line sounded to the Corellian too much like one that a street vendor would use. He notices that perhaps he is not being too polite, and he bows his head down. "Sorry about that.", he concedes. "It just has been a long trip. We are waiting for someone.", he finds himself saying, for some reason. A strange feeling prompting him in that direction. Catching the brief pause Markus had given her to introduce herself, Mira inserts a quick, "I'm Mira," into the gap of silence. She then waits patiently for Markus to continue speaking before chirping up with a question. "Are you a tour guide?" she asks. After all, back on Corellia people woudl sometimes offer tours of the city in the fliers hanging on the bulletin board. And he did say he might be able to help them. Turning to address Markus and Simon, she hisses (loudly), "Maybe he can help us find Lu--." But her thought is cut off as she catches a ball of fur and drool running towards them at top speed. Her hissing words crescendo into a, "Lu--oook out!" and her finger points to Bram, approaching from behind her friends. Filing the offered name in the back of his mind, Simon continues to study Tarroc, assessing him as one might assess a cunningly crafted puzzle. He didn't seem to have the same coldness about him that The Hunter had had. Nevertheless, Simon was certain this was the person he'd noticed, and with the admission of his identity not matching that of Jedi Luke Skywalker, he became an unknown. Simon had learned to grow wary of the unknown, almost to a fault. And then that light brushing against his senses occurs again, this time from a direction other than Tarroc. Eyes widening, Simon turns his head in the general direction of Ethan and the canine. Markus's words reach his ears, but the meaning is only half heard as his mind reels with the thought that yet another 'Unborn' should be present. They were so rare on Telgosse... how could there be so many now at one place, at the same time? And the answer, of course, is the Jedi Luke Skywalker. Perhaps this individual with the canine was the man himself. Again, Simon expected someone much taller and more strongly built, but this man seemed to have a bond with a creature of the wild. Surely on a world such as this, only the Jedi Luke Skywalker would have such a pet. Wrapped in his thoughts and distracted by the sensation of someone drawing upon the True Source, Simon blinks in surprise when Mira's warning reaches his ears. Bending his knees and holding his hands out to either side, Simon sets himself into a position so as to wrestle the dog with his bare hands if it came to it. Dealing with an animal, Simon's hunter instincts take over and he forgets the weapon at his side. "Bram!" Ethan calls as the leash slips from his grip, slapping into the Nek's backside as he runs.. a sort of loping full gallop, replete with slobber at every pound into the pavement. He really is a massive beast, paws the size of dinner plates.. Ethan scowls faintly, realizing he must remember Tarroc from the school as well, and making a mental note to re-program the Neks autonomity chip. The Nek skids to a halt near Tarroc, nearly slamming into him and whines up at the man, his black tongue lolling out. Ethan begins moving that way, using the Force to guide his steps.. slowly he moves.. he hadn't quite gotten the hang of it, but was beginning to trust the sensations he was getting. Kneeling down (though certainly not too far) to regard Bram as he approaches, Tarroc needs to suppress a chuckle as he notices the wary one's reaction to the animal. Of course, had Tarroc not known the nature of this animal, such a response would have been warranted if not prudent. He gives the nek a good scratching behind the ears and then straightens, speaking to Markus as Simon seems indisposed. "No, no, not selling anything. Just.. well, if you need any help, feel free to contact me through New Republic channels. Just tell them you wish to speak to General D'agor." As if being approached by a stranger isn't odd enough, this one seems to be a General. And out of the blue, he seems to want to aid the trio. He then shifts his attention to Ethan for a moment. Though the other can not see him, both know of the presence of each other. Fortunately, messages can be conveyed without words even being spoken -- especially where the Force is concerned. Then, after bowing once more to the group, Tarroc turns to leave. A strange meeting, indeed. The white haired man blinks a few times, at Mira's warning, "Wha-", and then he sees Bram. Markus quickly positions himself in a defensive position in front of Mira. But he slowly relaxes as the newcomer, Ethan, seems to be keeping the beast under control. "Erhm...", he starts, arching an eyebrow. Things have just been too weird, since he arrived back home at Corellia that day. "General?", why would a General offer his help so easily. "Sure... General D'agor.", Markus makes a mental note of it. "Uhm... Thank you.", the young man adds after a short moment of digesting the information. Slowly, Markus finds himself turning to Ethan then. "You are not a general too, are you?", he asks towards the man. Mira is far too disturbed by the "attacking" dog to pay much attention to much to what Tarroc says. She watches Bram nervously as he trots over to Tarroc, afraid that he will maul the man's hand off or something equally gruesome. When he does not, she seems to relax slightly, but her eyes to continue to follow the Nek battle dog around warily. Her eyes flick to the man approaching slowly for only a second before they return to watching Bram snuffle around. She barely even notices Tarroc's departure as she circles around Simon, positioning him between herself and the dog. Yes. Good. With the way the word 'General' is used, Simon gets the feeling that the title indicates something akin to a village chief. Glancing at Tarroc D'agor as the young man departs, Simon shakes his head. The man appeared to young to be a village chief... but if he were under the same curse as the _Selas_, anything was possible. Simon straightens and glances at Markus as he greets the stranger with the large canine. This man was definitely too young to be a village chief, regardless of whether or not he was connected to the True Source or not. He also didn't appear to be of a whole body... and a man would not be selected as a chief unless he was complete, physically and spiritually. Mira gets his attention next as she moves around him. A wry smile spreads across his lips, and he flicks a gaze back up to the stranger. He remains silent, once more allowing Markus to be the spokesman for their trio. Bram tilts his head at Tarroc's departure, and if Neks' could frown, he would now. Turning his ample frame, the beast sniffs toward the others, his cybernetic sensors calculating their hostility factor.. and more importantly, the likelihood that they may possess something edible. He emits a high pitched noise in his throat as his infrared turns on the woman.. olfactory algorithm churning out the numbers on her. Yes.. a high probability. Quickly, he nudges into her, snuffling at her pockets, two large paws going up to straddle her shoulders.. the tongue lapping at her chin.. -- "Bram, c'mon.. cut it out.." Ethan calls with almost embarrassment. He might not be able to see it, but he can sense where the Nek is and what he's doing.. his force imprint having been seared into his brain since he was quite young. Noticing General D'agor's exit, Ethan assumes the man who is speaking is addressing him now, "Me?" he asks, finally getting to the group and pointing his head in the direction of the voice, "No.. I'm not in the military." he answers quietly, "Why, are you? I noticed you were speaking with the General.. Let me guess.. Starops right?" He asks the question only to bide time while he lingers on them.. now focusing some attention on the man who spoke. As he does, he bends down trying to grasp the errant leash.. his hand patting the ground where he thinks it might be, and cursing under his breath about how difficult it was to sense inorganic items. Thankfully, Ethan callsout the Nek before he can stay for too lon on the woman. Markus reaction was going straight for the animal, apparently the Corellian has marked himself as the protector of Mira. He seems to ease up a bit, as he notices the beast doesn't mean any actual harm. "Well, I...", he start and then finds himself shaking his head. "No, not the military. Not StarOps.", Markus quickly explains. He is confused now, he believed this other man was connected to the General somehow, and the General had been quite weird himself. "My name is Markus Lisardis.", he decides to explain. "And we have come to Coruscant to try and meet someone.", the young man adds, "The man called Skywalker.", Markus finds himself saying, again for some reason't he can't really understand. "Oh. No. Bad dog. No," Mira utters, taking a few steps back as Bram seems to focus in on her. She seems about to make a break for the ship before the massive Nek dog tackles her to the ground and begins trying to eat her head, getting drool and saliva all over her and her newly cleaned cloak. "Agh! Agh! Bad dog!" she shrieks, trying to push the massive animal off her with her hands as he continues to happily snuffle her. "Argh!" But she is unable to move the huge animal. He was rather persistent. In a last dtich effort to distract the animal, and perhaps take the edge off his hunger, she digs into her cloak pocket, drawing out a rather rancid piece of meat attached to a bone, which she tosses a few feet away, which the Nek then follows. Scrambling to her feet, the girl darts into the White Ghost, deciding to stay the rest of the night there. At the first and even second glance, Simon hadn't noticed anything out of place in regards to Bram. It was a dog of some sort, and though stranger than what he'd known on Telgosse, it seemed to be the sort that the villages kept to aid in hunting and keeping predators at bay. Then Simon notices that the oddness about the dog is beyond skin deep, literaly. Like the planet Coruscant, the dog's nature had been callously shrouded in technology. Another rape of nature, and instantly, Simon dismisses the possibility that the blind stranger could possibly be the Jedi Luke Skywalker. When Bram begins to nuzzle Mira, Simon reacts much as Markus. He doesn't sense any real danger, but he keeps a wary eye on the canine to be sure. If the dog creation did anything to Mira, he would not forget his weapon, this time. And then, like the ferret Simon had imagined earlier, Mira outwits the canine and makes a break for the ship. He follows her with his eyes, smiling and shaking his head. It was birds on Corellia, and now it's dogs on Coruscant. What would it be at the next place? Hesitation. Ethan furrows his brows beneath the pitch black visor, un-knowingly taking a step back from the man. His voice is low and paranoid now, "You're not.. bounty hunters.. are you?" he asks, forgetting all about Bram for the moment as the Nek chases after Mira's treat. A hundred things run through Ethan's mind simultaneously. These people were here looking for Luke. At least one of them, from what he could tell seemed to be armed.. Luke, he had learned, had several high priced bounties on his head.. His expression loosens as he realizes he is probably over-reacting.. This /is/ Coruscant, Luke didn't seem on guard here.. it's probably nothing. Still, as a precaution, the young man inhales a breath preparing for any sudden movements he might need to make. He tilts his head and tries a smile to soften his trepidation, "..old friend of the Master, perhaps?" -- Without even realizing it, his hand finds its way into the fold of his garments, slipping around the cold metal hilt of his saber. So calming was the feeling, so.. comfortable, and like a part of his own body was the touch, that he barely noticed he was doing it. It hadn't been that long since he had constructed the weapon. For years he had meditated on it's design, only in the last few precious weeks had it all come together for him. Those last few days turning into a blur of mediation. The saber was his only thought during that time. Nothing else, not even food or sleep entered his consciousness. Symbiotic was the weapon to him now, and it fit into his hand as if it weren't there. The freshness of that was still present. He had only the other day woken in the night to find himself clutching it. Odd, and peaceful it was. "..if you know him, I could tell him you're looking for him." Ethan adds conversationally, not ignoring the possible threat, and not giving away too much information. Well, with Ethan's reaction Markus' finds himself arching an eyebrow. "Bounty Hunters?", the Corellian now grins, "I don't think Bounty Hunters would come into Coruscant, asking so openly about their bounty.", a small grin plays on Markus' face now. "But now, we aren't bounty hunters.", Markus confirms. He seems to be unaware of Ethan's movements into his garments. Or if he does, he makes no mention of it. The white haired man does walk closer to Simon, standing next to the other man. "And I doubt Skywalker knows us, but we both have reasons to see him. Mine... are a bit personal, but I have a favor to ask from him.", he pauses, wincing at the memory of the nightmares. "My friend", another pause and Markus looks at Simon, has his own reasons for wanting to meet Skywalker, but that story is his to tell.", Markus finishes. "I take it you know the man, then?" Again, this stranger lacked the prickly feel of danger that the one he thought of as The Hunter having. Around her, there had seemed to be the tension like the moment just before the wild beast broke cover and spears were brought to bear. Yet, this man drew upon the True Source like a babe suckling his mother, and as his hand moves into the folds of his attire, Simon's moves toward the long, silver cylinder at his waist. With as many eyes as there were on Coruscant, he sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to Dance the Blades with this stranger. As Markus steps closer, and includes Simon in his speech, Simon turns his head slightly in the white haired Corellian's direction without taking his eyes of Ethan. He starts to open his mouth to tell at least part of his reasons for seeking the Jedi, but then stops as Markus offers the last question. Silently apprehensive, Simon watches Ethan as he makes his answer. "I know him." Ethan answers placidly, standing to face both of them as he senses Markus moving nearer to the other man. This whole time he had been focusing his attention on Markus alone.. sensing nothing dangerous about the man, and quickly dismissing his previous paranoia about bounties. The grip on his saber relaxes and he turns his attention briefly on the silent one. There was something odd about him. Ethan raises a hand, comfortingly, "It's ok friend." he says distantly, "Your weapon.." he adds, pausing a long moment, his hand gesturing mildly toward the man's lightstaff. "..you won't need it." He stretches out toward Simon, getting a glimpse of him in his mind, the image startlingly vivid, bright, but somehow blurry at the center. "Do either of you care to tell me what you want with Master Skywalker?" He adds, finally letting his hand drop to his side just as Bram finishes with the bone Mira had thrown and comes to sit at his leg, licking his chops. "I can tell you my reasons.", Markus starts, pausing to look at Simon, "But my companion will have to tell you his.", Markus looks a bit confused, as how the other one knew about Simon's weapon, but he tries his best to keep the confusion out of his voice. "Since I was a child, I've had very strong and vivid nightmares. For a long time, they were only that. Nightmares. Until recently...", the Corellian bows his head, slowly shaking it. "For reasons I rather not talk about, it seems the nightmares have become more intense, sometimes even taking over during my wake hours, if I don't concentrate hard enough....", a deep sigh, "I've heard that Skywalker was a man of miracles, I was hoping he would have the knowledge to help me with my situation.", he finishes his explanation, his words sounding quite sincere. The tension that had start to mount in Simon's shoulders subsides as Ethan takes his hand away from his concealed weapon, and he lets his hand drop naturally by his side. It was a quiet relief to not have to fight this man. A familiar feeling flows off of him that at first, Simon doesn't recognize. When he does, his eyes widen and his mouth drops into a silent O. This man, like Mira, Markus, and the evil Hunter, was to play a part in his destiny, somehow. Dizzy with the epiphany, Simon turns his head toward Markus as his speaks. His friend's words roll over him, and the part of his concentration that he'd been using to control the pain from his ribs slips, sending an ache across his chest. When Markus goes silent, he turns toward Ethan and speaks in turn, his voice tight and his accent thick. "I seek the Jedi to aid my friends. It was the ancient Jedi that taught my people to live with nobility in the face of the curse of the True Source. If Luke Skywalker is of this order, then he could help Markus and Mira. I am not wise enough to help them myself." Ethan ponders both men's reasons for a long moment. The nightmares Markus speaks of he can understand personally.. he's had them. If Markus' dreams were anything like his own leading up to the ultimate betrayal at the school.. he pitied the man. He nods sympathetically, answering succintly, "I understand." then listening to Simon speak. The terms threw him off.. True Source? Yet quickly learning this is what his culture named the Force. He wraps the length of Bram's leash around his fist and answers Simon and Markus both. "You seek the right man. Luke Skywalker is a Master of the Jedi arts.. my teacher.. if anyone can help you both.." his gaze if only for appearances, moves between the two of them, "..it's him." He smiles faintly adding, "My name is Ethan Katana. Come with me. I'll take you somewhere where we can wait for him." without waiting for a response, he turns and begins moving toward his small freighter, pulling Bram behind him on the leash. Teacher? Yet, Markus doesn't ask the question out loud. If Skywalker was Ethan's teacher, then that meant that Ethan was one of the Jedi too? Well, that's what logic would say, even though Markus is not familiar at all with the Jedi, and the closest he had been to one before was Simon. "Markus Lisardis.", the Corellian introduces himself. "And you have my thanks." He pauses, though, as he notices the other walking towards a freighter. "Are we to wait on your ship? I'm not too comfortable about leaving mine around....", he offers, then turns to Simon. "Do you think we should notify Bazil about it too?", he asks his friend. Ethan turns around at the ramp and calls after Markus, "It's ok.. just follow me up. I'll transmit you the landing codes and transponder. Your ship will be safe there." Simon moves with the other two, his left hand going to his middle and hugging his abused ribs. Another day or two, and he'd be healed, but until then breathing was an exercise in painful endurance, and his thoughts were too jumbled to focus his concentration and wield the True Source. He stops when Markus does, and starts to open his mouth to offer his name, only to stop again as Ethan and Markus have another quick exchange. "Knowing Bazil McKenzie, he knows where we're headed before we do," Simon say quietly in Markus's direction.
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