[Game Thread] Part One: I Don't Believe in Coincidence

[Melchior]

Grateful to be on the move again, Zatrel foots the cost of the taxi.

When they arrive at the Kel Dor's apartment and listen to the land lord's story Zatrel frowns. The Imperials worked faster than he had hoped. It was confirmation that the ISB had their identification though, if they could track down the Kel Dor's home address.

When they get to the room in question Zatrel gives a low whistle. "Certainly did a number on this place, didn't they?" While the Kel Dor collects whatever it was he had wanted to come back here to get, Zatrel leans up against the wall near the entrance to the room and slips out the datacard the Bothan had, supposedly, left for them back at the spaceport. It looked the same as any other datacard, but he was curious to see what the nervous looking creature had been so scared of. Slipping the datacard into the side of his datapad, Zatrel takes a look at what was so unnerving.

[Connor]

The chuckle in stereo that came from the Ithorian would be disconcerting to most who heard it. It wasn't odd, it was just... unnatural to hear chuck a humanoid response in stereo. "I plied my 'wares'. That should be the most important fact brought to bear. Generally I deal in information and knowledge. One such person was in need and paid handsomely, how was I to know he was a fugitive." The statement was said nonchalantly and with a shrug, as if it was the most natural thing in the cosmos for him to do.

[DoubleL1987]

"I hear that," Malcolm said with a wry smile. "I was just unfortunate enough to use the same 'travel agent' as this mysterious person they're hunting. Honestly, I think if the ISB agent knew what he'd actually hauled out of the departures lounge when he grabbed me, he would have exploded."

He looked at Larria. "And you, Horns? Monumentally bad luck catch you as well?"

[GrandCommander13]

"Yeah, no problem," the landlord says when asked not to mention the incident to the children. "I don't like to go stirring things up anyway, you know?" Pelon is able to retrieve his gear, most importantly his salvaged Jedi teachings and his lightsaber, from the residence without any trouble. If the Imperials had found either, it's not likely they would have let the issue lie.

Zatrel slides the datacard into his datapad and loads up the information. On it he finds a dossier on a Quarren merchant, loaded with pictures of him meeting with various people – including your fugitive – and stamped with ISB reference numbers for everything in the text. The dossier details his connections with known dissident couriers, black market dealers, and a penchant for encountering and "befriending" government employees; a few of the new "friends" came forward to the ISB about innocent requests turning into blackmail, and the others are now under investigation. Also included on the datapad is a set of transfer orders from the ISB to the police, dated the day before, indicating that this Quarren is to be transferred after a week in a police isolation cell to an orbiting Star Destroyer. Also included is a map of the police station, the names of the men who work in the confinement area, a picture of Larria, a Bothan-sounding name, and a promise of 5,000 credits to whoever can free the Quarren or 2,000 credits to anyone who can kill him in prison or smuggle him a weapon so he can kill himself.

If Pelon has finished his business, he and Zatrel can get in their taxi and reach the stadium not too far behind the others.

[Jocularity]

"Strange." Said Pelon Kai, after leaving the house and looking over Zatrel's shoulder at the Datapad. "And concerning. It seems its more than the Imperials that can act faster than we are comfortable with. This is... The woman from the spaceport... We should really share our names with eachother once we join up..." He shifted the straps on his pack slightly so that it would be more comfortable on his back, and started down the short front steps. "She'll want to see this, we should get going."

[Melchior]

That datacard was filled mostly with information that meant very little to him. The Quarren was clearly some sort of underworld information broker, or small-time crook who thought himself good enough to get away with blackmailing Imperial officials. He wasn't good enough if he was now in Imperial custody. Though the fact that he had met with this fugitive the Imperials were so intent on finding was interesting. He wondered if the Imperials knew that already? Perhaps, though even if they didn't Zatrel would not tell them. He didn't trust them to uphold any sort of deal anyways.

"Well, that's interesting." Zatrel comments when the profile of a familiar looking Zabrak female displays on the screen of the datapad. "Wonder how she got mixed in with the Bothans?" The Bothans were renowned, or reviled depending on who one was speaking to, for always have their eyes and ears everywhere. They practically fed on intrigue and subterfuge and more often than not you could expect the Bothans to have their fingers in anything they deemed important.

Turning off the datapad, and slipping the datacard back into the inside pocket of his coat Zatrel nods. "I would certainly like to hear what the lady has to say about what's on here." Looking at what the Kel Dor had decided to salvage he raises an eyebrow at the glowtorch but says nothing. "Well if you have everything you need, I see no reason to stick around." Looking around at the rest of the room as they leave Zatrel gives a wry grin, "Just going to leave the mess for the next poor sap?"

[ReggaeMortis]

At first Larria does not answer, instead just clenching her fists until it's too painful to hold them this way. She bows her head, horns pointing forward. It will be long till she overcomes the grief. And, she realizes, she doesn't really want to.
"The stormtroopers killed my teacher." - she answers slowly and quietly at last. "He was the closest thing I had to a father." - she pauses again and then continues, her tone being less dark by a very small margin. "As much as I wished to fight there and then, I knew I had to leave. So that's how I crossed paths with that fugitive."
"And now I am ashamed for that." - she rises her head and looks Malcolm in the eye. "Now I know I can fight, and I won't run again. I'm a Zabrak, dammit! I could not protect my teacher, but I promise to do my best to defend you all." - Larria speaks somewhat solemnly, and it's clear she means it.

[Connor]

Omemo looked to the resolved young Zabrak... "I'll hold you to that, I'll certainty hold you to that." his tone suggests that he clearly prefers others to do his fighting for him. Whether truly pacifistic or merely weak, that remains to be seen. "Do we wait for the others, or should we carry on from here and await them inside?"

[Jocularity]

"If we had any time, i might have cleaned up. But you heard Jorran, my security deposit covers it." He signals to the Taxi they kept waiting and headed over to it, stepping around to the far side before opening a door. "I dare say this might put a hiccup in her desire to detach from events that are unfolding and go out on a nature walk."

[Melchior]

"Maybe," Zatrel says, shrugging his shoulders, slipping into the taxi. She must not have recognized the Bothan at the spaceport or she would have said something at the time, but perhaps she knew something. He admitted he was curious about what the Quarren knew. And about the reward money being offered for his release... or for his silence. He could think of a few things a fugitive might want that he could buy with five grand. It was worth considering, though getting into the poor squidface would be anything but easy.

He gives the taxi driver their destination, and leans back in the seat, gazing out over the city as the taxi speeder zooms across the sky.

[DoubleL1987]

Malcolm's face quirked in sympathy for the Zabrak's story, and he gave her a light pat on the shoulder. "You don't have to worry about defending me, you saw I can take care of myself. Still, we can watch each other's backs, right?"

He looked at the Itorhian's question. "I think we should stay out here a bit longer. At least out here we can see if we have any company incoming."

[Connor]

Omemo agreed, even if reluctantly with Malcolm's assessment. "Well, at least until the rest of our little 'party' shows." He says with a soft resignation that he will have to rely on these people or himself solely. And, considering what they've already endured, he was banking on them as a whole rather than an individual.

[GrandCommander13]

Standing outside the stadium the group talks. Looking like they are doing nothing more than loitering they get a few looks from people who pass by and those inside some of the restaurants, but apparently loitering is something of a passtime for young people in the area: another pair of swoops come racing down the street at incredible speeds, and again a roar erupts from the people gathered to watch it.

Pelon's and Zatrel's taxi finally makes it to the stadium, coming down on the street on the opposite side of the stadium. Pelon and Zatrel get out and are able to quickly spot their fellows, standing out by the gates into the stadium.

[Jocularity]

Stepping out of the taxi, Pelon looked about in curiosity at familiar yet unfamiliar surroundings. "When did they start having swoop races here?" He asks to no-one in particular, not expecting any answer. His hidden eyes scan the crowds, and it is a short while before spotting the rest of their fate picked fellowship. "There are our friends. We'll have to cross the racetrack it seems. Best to wait until right after they pass, you can't see them coming at those speeds..."

[Melchior]

Paying the driver, Zatrel steps out of the cap. The telltale whine of swoop engines draws his attention towards the races. "Street racing, eh?" he mutters to himself, taking a cigarra from his pack and lighting it. "The Imperials must not have a very tight grip on this town." Street racing was fairly common in larger cities, though it was almost universally illegal, considering the obvious dangers involved. Shrugging Zatrel looks away from the races, "Or they don't care enough to put a stop to it."

"Whatever you say, Wizard," Zatrel replies to the Jedi's comments. He was well aware the speed the swoops could travel at. He had flown some himself before, and not just down some wide open street in the broad daylight. Taking a deep drag on his cigarra Zatrel watches the swoops tear down the road.