Accusations on Telmaria

This close to the end of the trip, things are moving faster than Trina can track. Preparations are being made. Trina looks at her empty hands. She'd given the borrowed weapon back, without urging, but she was unarmed again and going into what Delphine just described as a wet mess. Possibly a trap. And given the recent tension, Trina wasn't about to ask for a weapon again.

Following the crowd through the rooms of the ship, Trina raises her voice when Sarna speaks a concern that echoes Delphine's. "They say members of The Enclave can read your mind. If you're worried about my presence, read mine. If you don't like it, I'll stay behind."

Anyone capable of reading her thoughts finds two distinct voices, both Trina's. The first, strong but fading, seems focused on Siika. More specifically, her hands. Along with an image of the pilot's fingers moving rapidly, Trina's voice drones: Trapezium, Capitate, Triquetrum, Trapezoid, Hamate...

This voice and imagery grows increasingly quiet as another surges forward to take it's place. There is an image associated with this voice as well: Kalden's face. The voice is not kind: If I ever see you again I'm going to put a blaster so far up your--

Trina clears her throat and looks back at Lincoln. She knew what Delphine thought of her since she'd made her confession. She thought she knew Siika's and Sarna's thoughts on the matter. She wonders briefly if Lincoln judged her the way The Acolyte had?

When Lincoln returns from getting his things and changed, he has a second blaster in spot on his other hip, the pair matching. At Siika's request, he glances at her and then leans down to his pant leg, rolling it up some and pulling a blaster from that location. It isn't a hand cannon like the ones at his hips, but it is a servicable weapon. He tosses it towards her (safety on of course) before looking between Delphine, Sarna and then to Trina. "You ever walk in the room and get the feeling someone was just talking about you?" He pauses, "We're y'all just talking about me?"

Delphine allows Sarna to see through her mind's eye. Ravace is simply waiting, expecting, but not overly concerned. There's no sense of danger though with the way visions work you don't get to see everything crystal clear. "He wants to meet," she says aloud to all of them. "We need to start diplomatically...not seem like we're making an armed assault." With a quickly huffed out sigh, the blonde woman takes her seat behind Siika then turns to Trina. She reaches out as invited, not bothering to take time being sensitive to Trina's feelings right now. Though the split thought streams show some confusion in Trina's synapses, at first Delphine just sorts through the dual information stream. But then the forceful words against Kalden's image snaps Delphine out of Trina's head, though her residual hatred for the agent leaves a dark impression in Delphine's mind. "I'm sorry..." she says gently to Trina, trying to show she really does care about the other woman. "If you can get past that anatomy class happening in your head, you'll be fine. I really do want to trust you, Trina."

Snatching the weapon out of the air is no trouble for Siika at all; truth be told, changing her underlying bodysuit was more than just for show. It essentially served as a fresh shower, and the cybernetics have been reset by being pulled and plugged back in. Whatever damage might have been done to the muscles in her fingers was done a long time ago; she just needed to give her fake joints a chance to reset themselves. Good as new, as they say.

The weapon is magnetized and attached to her external hip bone, with no shortage of a scowl. She doesn't own a personal sidearm, and never has. The thought of firing one has her feeling a little ill, something she distracts herself from by getting on the comms. "Telmar Control, this is //Servant Mercy//, Terragena Light Sporting yacht. Requesting entry pattern."

//Servant Mercy//, Telmar Control. Log the purpose of your visit.

"Refueling and repair," Siika answers. "You've got pirates on Hyperlane G16. Just a little FYI."

Good to hear you got through in one piece. Set two six seven, we have landing pad 56 cleared for you.

"Copy that, //Mercy// out.

Talk of an armed assault versus a diplomatic mission prompts Siika to eye the blaster at her hip doubtfully. As the ship begins descending along Vee's programmed autopilot, she scoots out of the chair and crouches beside him, opening up his chassis. "You better keep track of this," she tells him, and places Lincoln's borrowed blaster into his body for safekeeping before closing him up again.

Upon reclaiming her seat, she looks between Delphine and Trina for a moment, before settling her gaze upon Sarna. The youngest of them gets a worried look, before turning her attention back to the work at hand.

The //Servant Mercy// descends into the lower atmosphere, entering a maelstrom of dark clouds. Visibility reduces to zero for a few moments, and the ship is rocked back and forth by heavy air currents and the occasional clap of lightning. Nothing strikes the ship, but she brings up the shields regardless. They would absorb any wayward bolts of lightning just fine.

Soon enough, they descend below the clouds only to be met by pouring rainfall, splashing against the windows and being quickly whisked aside by the ionization of the glass. One of the many floating cities lies before them, a landing pad marked by flashing blue lights drawing closer as they approach to make a landing.

Something about the vision that Delphine shares reassures Sarna, and she finds herself relaxing, opening up to the Force for a sense of what danger is ahead of them. But Trina's concerned voice pulls her out of her reverie, and she hesitates to do as asked; instead she glances at Delphine, leaving it to the more experienced Acolyte to diagnose Trina's state of mind.. Unaware of the previous tense conversation between the Acolyte and the cyborg, or what internal conflicts Trina is warring with, the way that Trina looks at Lincoln, and his resulting remark, deepens the puzzle for her. "No," she answers Lincoln, "we weren't -talking- about you." She gives him a wan smile, then returns Siika's look when their pilot arrives and eyes her worriedly "What?" she mouths without actually saying the word out loud, and gives her a thumbs up to indicate all is well.

The next thing she knows, the ship is hurtling through the atmosphere of Telmaria, and her attention again turns to their flight. She leans forward for a better look, but her fingers are busy collecting her long hair and weaving it into a long plait as if it's something she's done a thousand times before. She secures it at the nape of her neck and pulls up her cowl, so her features are obscured when she first sees the storm and gasps at the angry splatter of rain on the windows surrounding them and the erratic, violent cracks of lightning in the distance.

"It's getting easier to ignore the litany of hand bones," Trina says, offering Delphine a tight smile. She leans closer to the blond woman and whispers, "When I look at Lincoln, it switches to human reproductive systems. Very distracting."

The descent through the atmosphere, first above the tumultuous clouds, then among them, fascinates Trina. Too often, she experienced the wonders of space travel in the back of the ship, without any way of seeing what's happening. The swirling gray clouds, the flashes of lighting, the occasional breaks allowing Telmaria's distant blue sun to break through mist and shine like the finger of some great god upon the _Servant Mercy_... it drowns out all of the voices in Trina's head and fills her with wonder. As high as her mechs might be able to jump, they never touched the sky. Not like this.

Trina watches as Siika guides the ship down onto the designated landing platform, where weather-worn technicians and a handful of angular droids immediately get to work security the yacht to the moving platform. Winds whip rain against the external viewport.

And then there's nothing left but for the group to depart and meet their "host."

With the descending of the ramp from the _Servant Mercy_, a sudden gust hurls salty water up into the ship and into the faces of those preparing to enter the elements. Trina let's her eyes move across her companions, especially Sarna and Delphine with their longer hair which is sure to get caught and pulled by the winds outside. Trina raises a hand and touches the chrome running down the back of her neck. For the first time, she does not envy her friends for their more luxurious locks.

The only half-human Lincoln grabs his hat from a nearby chair and slides it onto the top of his head, settling it in with the brim pulled a bit low to help shield his eyes and appearance. It isn't much of a disguise for him, anyone who ventures out Valentine's way would recognize him, but considering it's enough to keep him out of notice. Checking quickly the blaster's and their energy readouts, he nods towards the others.

Approaching the ramp to disembark, the spray of salty water causes him to sputter momentarily and wipe his face. It takes a moment and then he glances at Sarna who he was standing next to, "Dinner when we get back to Valentine's?"

As Trina leans in to make a joke, Delphine's blue eyes flash and she blushes slightly, suddenly. "Really really distracting she says with her old, quick smile coming back for Trina. She moves aft to the cargo bay to exit with the others. On her walk there she takes an elastiplast loop out of her pocket and pulls her voluminous hair into a chignon at the nape of her neck. As they descend the ramp together, Delphine raises her hood and takes point but let's Siika deal with any landing paperwork. She opens herself to her surroundings and steps forward then stops. Later, she turns to Siika to confirm, raising her voice to get above the din of the storm. "This platform where DLM-1's signal is coming from?" she asks referring to the platform at large, not just the landing platform. "Or do we need to get a transport?"

Though the winds are howling and the rain pelts the newcomers to Telmaria as if trying to wash them off the technical marvel, Delphine's words carry far enough for one of the figures on the platform to respond.

"No need for a transport," the man says. By his facial markings, he appears to be a Zabrak, though his head is covered with the same slick, water-proof material that makes up his sleek black overcoat. "Arrangements have already been made. If you'll just follow me for a few moments, we'll get you all in out of the rain as soon as possible."

A number of service droids with bulky feet yet surprisingly deft-appearing hands, descend upon the ship. They appear concerned with the recent damage taken from the encounter with the pirates, and they go to work immediately on the hull and subsystems damaged during the boarding attempt.

"This way," calls out the Zabrak, and begins moving along one of the platforms towards a dome-shaped building more central to the greater platform.

After locking down the ship and setting the converters into idle mode, Siika brings down every system she can think of without completely cancelling the internal fusion functions. It's a configuration for a quick getaway, if one is needed, but from the outside looking in, the yacht would appear at rest.

She's the last to come down the boarding ramp, and the last to be blasted at by the intense rain and blowing winds. Thankfully, the hood upon her long coat protects most of her face and keeps her braided hair from completely clashing with that which is unbraided, but it doesn't prevent the salty water from spritzing her face.

"Ugh," she mutters to herself, and quietly touches her wrist computer, directing the //Servant Mercy//'s ramp to withdraw into the closing and locking doors.

Stepping up toward Delphine, Siika is about to access her wrist computer and pull up the tracking program, but it would seem quickly that this isn't necessary. Lowering her hand, she gives Delphine a raised eyebrow, but she doesn't take up point or respond to the Zabrak greeting them. Now that they've disembarked her ship, she doesn't feel as if this is her show anymore.

Surprise does register as the service droids move on her vessel, and she worries at her lower lip for a moment, wondering just how much this is gonna cost her. These thoughts are kept to herself; instead, she follows the others at the rear, keeping her eyes on... everything.

As the unlikely crew makes their way out of the cockpit and prepares to disembark, Sarna briefly checks the power cell on her lightsaber, following along behind Delphine and Trina with Lincoln next to her, she glances behind her, motioning for Vee-Four to follow. "C'mon, buddy," she calls. "We need ya again." The little red-and-blue droid warbles his excitement and speeds over to Siika, practically purring at the girl as he follows at her heels.

Sarna smirks to herself as she watches the little droid go off with his new girlfriend. She's relieved Trina is coming with them and seems to be recovering from the side effects of her ordeal with the medical droid, and Sarna has confidence in the abilities of each of her companions -- but she's drawn out of her thoughts by Lincoln's out-of-the-blue question. She does a double take as she stops halfway down the ramp, and the whipping of the wind and the rain make her large eyes squint and blink in reaction. Shielding her eyes with one hand, she chuckles at him in surprise. "Uh... sure! When we get back!" she agrees, having to raise her voice to be heard above the storm. It was either that or glare at him for picking the most awkward moment possible. Instead she tosses him as sultry a smile as she can given the circumstances, then pulls her cowl forward to hide her face from both him and the elements as they follow the others out onto the landing platform.

There, the Padawan goes to stand next to Delphine, straining to hear the instructions of the being sent to fetch them. Sarna gives the Acolyte an impressed look and smiles. "You were right," she says, not the least bit surprised. And though she doesn't speak it aloud, she conveys to her friend that she is still vigilant and keeping her eyes open for any traps to spring. She bows her head briefly to the Zabrak as the group continues after him toward central building.

The cyborg raises a hand to protect her face from the pelting rain as she follows the crowd off the ship and onto the Telmarian platform. She watches the Zabrak's back as he leads them away from the ship. Delphine had said they were expected, but she expected something else. This was better, right?

When Vee-Four rolls past her, headed back in the direction of the ship, Trina pauses to track the little droid's movement. Then she sees that it's just to rejoin with Siika. Trina smiles. That little droid... such a good boy! If she ever clawed her way out of debt, perhaps she'd find a droid of her own to adopt.

Her position in the crowd shifts over time as they move through the rain. For a moment, she's next to Delphine, but there's still something between them that doesn't feel fully resolved. She slows down a step and is next to Lincoln, but then the a still quiet voice inside her head starts spouting about glands and hormone levels, and she quickly steps on. She settles in behind Sarna, with Siika bringing up the rear. Glancing down at the rod clipped to the Padawan's hip, she forgets for a moment what she saw on that holo. She nods, thinking Sarna was smart bringing some kind of flashlight, in case they needed to move through the dark.

Delphine watches the the person approach and listens to him confirm that they're expected as she'd seen in her vision. She steps out from the group towards him, walking along side as she speaks to him. "Thank you," she says in her raised voice and pulls out a small chit marked with the Enclave's symbol and offers it to him. "This should cover repairs and docking fees." She looks back at her friends, taking in all the faces of those that followed her here, before speaking to the Zabrak again.

When Sarna pulls up beside her she smiles back at her friend and gives a little look of 'what did I tell you?'. There wasn't any affection lost between the two women. It was neither of their faults, what's come from their conversations before embarking on this journey. She's very aware of their surroundings, practicing a calm walk that helps her reach out while moving. She's aware of Siika concerned for her ship, and Sarna allowing her to take the lead by being wary herself. They'd both have to trust their feelings and right now this felt somehow...right. A path they were set to take even before they all met on Orum's Bastion. She senses Lincoln, distracted by Sarna's presence but still aware of his surroundings the way the lawman always was. Even Trina trying to find her place among them. Still sensing expectation but no ill intent, the Acolyte follows the Zabrak into the domed structure.

The Zabrak leads the party into the large, dome-shaped building near the center of the Telmarian platform. At first, it seems the wind has followed them into the foyer, but it's just warm, dry air blown from the sides of the opening, whisking away lingering rain droplets from impermeable surfaces and invigorating the traveler from the cold.

The purpose of the building is clear at a glance: this is a show-room. Huge open spaces with expensive looking furniture, rotating holo displays of some of Telmar's finest ships... and elevated above the showroom floor is a full-sized H-Series snub fighter, decorated in chromed out silver with red racing strips.

The Zabrak doesn't give the guests much time to ogle. "This way, please," moving deeper into the building. He takes off his rain coat and a slim and sleek protocol droid moves to take it from him, bowing while expertly tucking and folding the weatherware away. A pair of other protocol droids, one silver, one red, move alongside the visitors to the showroom, offering warm, dry towels as the group continues to walk.

The Zabrak finally stops at a set of double doors. He opens both wide, revealing beyond a banquet hall. At the far end, a table is set with spots for six. At the head of the table, facing the doors, is Taferi Ravace.

Ravace is a Nahrahm. Like so many of his race, he is attractive, tall, thin. He rises at the appearance of the guests, and he can be seen wearing a silk shirt, black pleated pants, and boots that would be more at home on a ranch in the more rural parts of Valentine.

"Alright," Ravace says, smiling. There is a twang to his voice, again placing his point of origin some place more down-home on Valentine, and less uppercrust. "I'm glad to see y'all made it one place. I hope you like bisque. Please. Take a seat, and join me for a nice meal."

Hearing that the docking and repair fees will be covered, Siika gives the back of Delphine's head a long, surprised look; a look that soon turns grateful. There is a sense of deep gratitude in her unguarded spirit, and a quiet smile forms on her face.

"Be glad you don't have eyes," she says quietly toward Vee-Four, smiling at her favorite droid. "The saltwater stings. When we get through all this, you can use //my// oil bath."

Her smile turns upon Sarna and Lincoln then, becoming more demure in nature. She is truly entertained by this triangle the three find themselves in; perhaps she's living a bit vicariously through them, given her own misgivings toward romance in general.

As they enter the interior, Siika is grateful for the warm air, and reaches up to remove the hood from her head, letting it drop back and reveal her beautiful hair and the cybernetic halo that runs within it. Her eyes stray to the showroom, and there's a glimmer of admiration. A scientist at heart, a technician by trade, she always has been and always will find her breath taken away by shiny things. "Splendid," she says quietly, admiring the displayed technology with a sense of wonder and a burning desire to tinker.

As they move along, Siika offers her outerwear to the protocol droid, not ashamed of her exposed cybernetics or the black bodysuit that hides nothing of her frame. It also reveals she is unarmed, an intentional motion to show that diplomatic finesse Lady Aurelia had spoken of earlier. As they approach the double doors, however, she steps up to Trina and rests a hand upon her forearm, hoping to get her attention. She seeks the woman's eyes, a meaningful look in her eyes. "Do the right thing," she says quietly, and smiles warmly. Encouragingly. Knowing what torment her fellow cyber-girl has gone through.

Entering the room, she gives a long look to Revace, studying him with a slightly angled head. She can't help but admit, the promise of a good meal has her stomach growling. However, she lets the others take their seats first, choosing to be seated last. Should Revace meet her eyes, she will give him a slow and pleasant nod in greeting.

The slow removal of his hat with a slight shake to discard excess water gives Lincoln an opportunity to look carefully around the room, taking in not the presence of Ravace but rather examining features around the area. What sorts of decor, entry points, lighting... all the things he attempts to take in with that brief moment. The final shake of his hat and he moves to resettle it back on his head, lifting his eyes up to level on Ravace. Recognizing him as one of his own people, at least half of them, the Valentine's Marshal immediately begins attempting to place him via family circle and area. Those features can often given away details. But once more, stepping forward with his boots dragging only a little amount of water, he fully removes his hat.

A level look with his blue eyes never deviates from Ravace, keeping them locked on the other man in the room fully wondering if it was expected for a male to be with this group of ladies. He cannot help it, it's internal but the barest strut of his chest occurs when he breathes, drawing himself up slightly taller while measuring.

The Acolyte and the Jedi Padawan lead the way into the building, and Sarna is pleasantly surprised by the warm air and towels brought to make them more comfortable. She peels off the drenched poncho and allows it to be taken away, her attention drawn to the luxurious items on display as they enter the showroom and are led to the opening double doors. There she hesitates, her hand resting at her lightsaber for a moment before she relaxes and follows Delphine inside. She shares a look with the Acolyte, moving within to find an empty seat at the table as she takes stock of the man they had previously only known as the Envoy. She remains quiet, letting the more experienced Acolyte take the lead in diplomatic efforts, but she glances back at her companions to make sure they're joining them as well. Though she's moved about in Nahrahm circles for a while now, she's not keen enough to catch that their host happens to be one of them, and she arches a brow at Lincoln's male reaction beside her. "You okay?" she asks, leaning over to whisper to him and pointing to the seat next to hers for him to grab. "I don't think this is what you had in mind?" she teases him in an effort to dispell the tension.

Like some of her companions, Trina is taken aback by the marvels on display as the group is brought into the area. She accepts the offered towel gratefully, pressing the soft material into her face for a long moment as they walk to the dining area. Before stepping inside, she runs the towel over her head and down her neck, then passes it back to one of the droids that had been keeping pace with them.

Like Siika, Trina hangs back, uncertain where to sit. It's just like on the platform. After the exchange between Sarna and Lincoln, it's clear those two should sit together, and she doesn't want to get too close or come between them. She could try to sit next to Delphine, but that could lead to...

Wait a minute. There are six bowls set out, six sets of silverware, six goblets glistening with some kind of sparkling liquid... but there were seven dining, counting Ravace.

"There aren't enough places set," Trina says, quietly. "I can just... I'm not that hungry, really."

With gracerful, practiced motions the Acolyte removes her wet outerwear and hands it off to a protocol droid. She took little notice of the fast shiny thing they passed in the showroom. As they move into the banquet hall, Delphine's seaglass eyes lock on the mysterious Nahram she's been chasing for Enclave reasons, not the one she was currently trying to forget about. Leaving them all behind, she strides confidently in his direction choosing to approach from the left side of the table. She stops beside the first chair to his right and gives a slight bow of her head. "Taferi Ravace. I am Delphine Aurelios with the Enclave. These are my companions." She gestures to each in turn, as if she's introduced the team hundreds of times before in the same manner. "Sarna Valios Starker, Siika Gest, Trina..." She uses the pilot's mech fighting name and hesitates for a moment as she realizes it's the only name she's known the woman by. "And Lincoln Abrams of Valentine's World." She lets the others settle around the table and says, "It's been an age since I've had a Telmarian bisque. And we could all use warming up. How thoughtful, and kind." Then she hears Trina muttering about place settings and she does a quick assessment and doesn't agree with the cybornetic woman's math and blinks, dumbfounded.

Ravace meets Lincoln's gaze, and the corners of his lips creep up in a smile. "Stand down, Cuz. I have a pretty good idea what the situation is with your little... posse. I'm not interested in getting up in your business. It's a higher calling I seek. Just relax. Try one of the rolls. The Telmari have a hard time growing grain on their home world so it's a special treat."

With Delphine's introduction, Ravace grows more sober and serious. He nods with each introduction, looking at each individual as they are named... until his eyes are upon Trina. He continues to stare at her, even as Lincoln is named.

"Tormon will not be joining us," Ravace says, gesturing towards the Zabrak standing at the door. At the same time, DLM-1 rounds the corner from the hall, entering and closing the doors behind him.

"But she's right. There aren't the right number of places set. Burt called and said you'd be coming. Gave your numbers, but I wasn't sure who would be with you. I didn't think you'd all be so foolish as to bring a Regency spy along to dinner. Trin Corina will not be joining us."

Ravace gestures again, DLM-1 widens his stance and raises one of his arms bristling with weapons.

Ravace continues speaking. "We'll make sure her stay is comfortable before the exchange."

"There are six of us," Siika quietly tells Trina. She suspects it to be a side of effect of her cross wired experience with TT-180; the tone of her voice is friendly and bears no judgment. With a smile, she gestures for Trina to take a seat next to herself, decidedly putting herself next to Revace, opposite Delphine, fully expecting Sarna to take a position next to the Acolyte while cleverly putting herself between Trina and the Envoy.

When the Envoy meets her gaze, Siika nods her head in greeting. However, things.... evolve. Her attention turns upon DLM-1, and her expression becomes... hard. She looks from the droid she so cleverly sliced, to Trina, then back to her companions. She shouldn't say or do anything; it isn't her place. She provided a ship for them to get here, that is all.

Unfortunately, the young woman is not tactful enough to keep her mouth shut. She turns to Revace and raises her voice to speak, argument in her tone. "She is //not// a Regency spy," she says. "Trina is as much a victim of their - their //savagery// as anyone else." It's a half truth. Trina is, in fact, a Regency spy, but not of her own bidding. She gives Revace a pointed look, feeling apologetic for what she's about say of her cyber-friend, but she says it anyway. "She's as much a slave as anyone."

Lincoln's lip curls into a very thin smile that he directs at Ravace, inclining his head, "It's not like that." The statement is simple but final in tone as he glances around and selects a chair at the far end of the table, waiting for others to sit before he does as well. "A higher calling you say?" the question from the lawman has a bit of humor to it as he settles in. While he keeps himself aware of the rest of the group his focus is most definitely on Ravace not lowering that measuring look.

It finally dawns on Sarna what's going on between Ravace and Lincoln, and she bites her lip to keep from bursting into giggles. She's relieved to watch Delphine take the lead, her skill and experience in diplomacy on display for all to see. The Envoy gets a more appraising look from her as he tells the Marshal of Tier City to stand down. But his accusation toward Trina takes her aback, and she finds herself on her feet, ready to defend their friend even as Siika explains the cyborg's situation. Sarna musters up her courage and addresses Ravace in a clear voice. "Trina risked her life to help us get here. We all vouch for her. And I will take personal responsibility myself if we're proven to be wrong in her." She speaks with an authority that a Jedi might expect, but here she is still just an unknown girl who has yet to prove herself. Still, she lifts her chin defiantly and meets Ravace's gaze levelly.

Trina shakes her head and counts the number of plates again. Then she looks to each of her companions, even as everyone is speaking. Five friends, Ravace...

And then DLM-1 is there, pointing weapons at her, and Siika and Sarna are defending her. DLM-1. She'd already been blasted by that droid once. She'd been able to push away her fear dealing with DLM-1 when she and Siika worked on it. The droid had been quiet, then. Harmless. But here he was again. Pointing weapons at her. She didn't expect its arm to shake, this time.

Whatever is going on between Lincoln and Ravace is lost on Trina. She turns and sees her friends defending her. She winces at Siika's description of her position, but she can't fault Siika for trying. She wasn't truly a slave to The Regency. Was she?

Trina opens her mouth to defend herself, but the words are lost. If she defended herself too rigorously and things got out of hand, what would happen to her friends? Trina raises her hands in the air and waits.

"Let's everyone just take a deep breath and calm down," Ravace says with a lopsided smile. He licks his lips as he looks first at Sarna and the odd piece of equipment in her hand. He knew what it was. He'd seen the holo from Tier. Then Ravace turns to Siika, nodding as she speaks. When she says Trina is not a spy and is a slave, Ravace winces. It's unclear which idea causes the reaction.

Delphine jumping into the defense seems to genuinely surprise Ravace. When she mentions "what he came to Bastion for" he narrows his eyes.

Turning to Lincoln, he says, conspiratorially, "You see, this is why I prefer to remain single. It's not in keeping with tradition, but it's way less complicated. Plus it's way cheaper come Life Day."

Ravace stands and raises his hands in a placating gesture. "Listen to me, everyone. No harm is going to come to your little friend. She's Regency property, as far as their concerned. Which means they'll make a good trade. Most of you were there at Orum's Bastion. I was supposed to meet up with someone. A farmboy. We give them your little robot girl, and they'll free the boy. Easy as that, and everyone's happy. Especially that farm boy's parents."

Ravace takes steps away from the table, still speaking, the spirit of the Orator taking him. "None of y'all like what The Regency is doing, am I right? Except maybe Ms. Corina, but we're not talking about her right now. We're talking about what's fair. And right. We have to make a stand, to put an end to the anti-alien movement and the bombarding and the injustice. To fight a beast like that, we're going to need resources. Like ships. And food, for feeding troops. That's what the farm boy meant to the movement. And now, if we give the Regency back their precious bit of hardware over here, that boy can mean food for the troops again."

Brown eyes look from Trina to Revace, torn between her friendship and the words that are spoken. There is a moment where she considers turning to her wrist-computer, taking a valiant stab at slicing back into DLM-1 and shutting him down. It's a knee jerk thought, one that swims to the forefront of her mind... but the words register.

Biting her lip, she looks from Revace to Trina, then to Sarna and Delphine, and finally to Lincoln. Her expression becomes downtrodden, and she folds her hands into her lap, going suddenly and uncharacteristically quiet.

Whatever is to come next, she will have no sway on it. She looks down to the bisque before her, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. It looks and smells so good, and she is in fact very hungry, but suddenly she finds herself lacking anything in the form of appetite.

Lincoln doesn't seem to have any appetite issues as he has begun eating his bisque. While others jump to Trina's defense, leaving their seats and getting defensive he pauses mid bite and glances over at Revace. "I suspect the reason you are single is because your views are not in line with your family circle," the comment comes quietly, flatly across the table. "What would they think of you if you would willingly treat a sentinent as property to be handed about, whatever the circumstance." The tsk in his tone is very subtle and somehow without moving his eyes from Revace, Lincoln sips his soup while staring and not spilling on himself. "If you begin getting into the habit of trading lives then you are one step closer to that which you claim to oppose."

It takes several moment before Trina realizes what it would mean to be the subject of a hostage exchange. The Regency would be displeased with her. How would they punish her? What more could they take away?

When Lincoln comes to her defense, Trina breathes a sigh of relief. Of her travel companions, he was the one she knew the least, and so the one she least expected to defend her. Sarna chiming in after him also warms her cheeks, though what she's suggesting is, to her estimation, madness.

"Wherever they're keeping him, it'll be incredibly difficult to break him out." Trina SHUT UP. "Agent Kalden has milking that abduction for all its worth." FOR THE LOVE OF THE STARS STOP TALKING.

Trina closes her mouth. Her hands are still raised in the air, unlikely to tire. She glances over her shoulder at DLM-1. The droid still had one of its weaponized arms pointed at her. DLM-1 was also unlikely to tire out.

The Envoy takes his time assessing each of his dinner guests as they make their varying cases. He ignores Trina, just as he ignores the Zabrak and the modified security droid, standing on the other side of the room.

He addresses Lincoln first. "I understand what you're saying, Cuz. And you're probably right about my family circle. Maybe you're able to carry your badge and keep things simple, black and white, right and wrong, but this is politics, now. There are complications on complications, and when the stakes are this high," Ravace brings a hand up level with his temple, "it's not a question of whether or not lives are on the line. It's which lives, and how many."

He looks between Sarna and Delphine next. "I think you might misunderstand how many forces we have at the table, just now. I don't have a spy network. I've got a couple of well placed friends, feeding me information a little bit at a time. We don't have an army at our disposal. Just a handful of local militias that are nervous at what The Regency is going to do next. Some wondering if they're 'human' enough to slip by, or if they're going to have to defend themselves against genocide. Maybe we could get some people together break out the farmboy, but then what? It's just a big ol' swing at the wasp's nest, and then the orbital bombardment starts again."

Ravace pauses to look at Siika, who has been quiet in the recent exchanges. "This is a hard choice for you. I know it. Ms. Corina probably seems real nice. But did any of y'all ask her where she was right before she joined your little party?"

Looking up from her untouched bisque, Siika's brown eyes shift from one face to the other, each in turn as they speak. As much as she'd like to tell herself that she's not involved, she is; she's had more than a few opportunities to exit stage left, go back to her work, mind her own business. She hasn't, and there's a reason for that; a reason she hasn't spoken of, and she doesn't want to speak of. Saying the words would be like a death sentence, and she knows it.

The words of Delphine are what draws her from her silence. She looks to the Acolyte, then to Revace. "I have a good idea where she was."

At this, Siika raises her hand, exposing the wrist computer. A hard expression forms on her face, and she swipes left twice, calling up a command. The command is entered, and while her eyes never leave that of the Envoy, she knows what is about to happen.

DLM-1 suddenly slumps, his eyes blinking offline, his weapon-wielding arm slacking down as he's remotely shut down. Oh yes, there are failsafes, for the young woman is nothing short of a wizard when it comes to droids, and DLM-1 spent more than a day in her parlor.

"Maybe you're looking at this all wrong," she says, and turns her attention upon DLM-1 at last, then to Trina. "Maybe what we have here... is a spy within the Regency." She looks back to Revace, her expression cold and stalwart. "A person they already trust. I've seen her mind, I've seen her programming. With her consent..." She turns to look at Trina, knowing that she's about to ask the world of her friend, and feeling a shred of apology for putting her in this position. "... we can make sure they suspect //nothing//."

She presses another command into her wrist computer, and DLM-1 comes back online, realigning his weapons upon Trina. She then turns back to Revace, fixing him with a pointed look.

"You wanna get your farm boy out? We've got ourselves an inside girl, if she's up to it."

Lincoln actually laughs at the words of Ravace, leaning back in his chair as he does so. "Let me... let me see if I got this straight real quick." There's genuine mirth in his eyes and expression as he holds up a hand to Siika as if to interupt her momentarily. "Hold on, let's... hold off on making deals and really..." he pauses for a breath and then blows out letting his eyes stay on Ravace. "You think responsibility for upholding laws is simple, black and white and right and wrong as you put it. Law, is law. Right and wrong, is right and wrong. The only people who speak of shades of gray when it comes to negotiating people's lives; no matter where they were a couple of days ago, are those that want to be the ones making laws for others. That's a politician, that's a government. They don't exist for anything other than telling people No."

Lincoln's humor fades some, his eyes hardening, "Whether it's the Regency, the Trade Collective, or even the Marauder's Guild there are codes, laws, rules that exist to dictate within that group what is right and wrong. What is acceptable and not. And those rules are made by politicians who then in turn want to find ways around their own rules."

Lincoln's hand slowly slides down, until he grasps his spoon and brings it up to his lips for a sip of the soup.

"Can't get involved?" Sarna sounds baffled at Delphine's pronouncement. "Then... why are we even /here/?" She defies the Acolyte with a fiery gaze and shakes her head in disbelief; the notion of a neutral Jedi is as far away from her sense of right and wrong as she can imagine. Is this what the Enclave would make of her if she were to follow in Delphine's footsteps? Turn her into someone whose loyalties and abilities were merely up for bid instead of used to right injustices? Something in her rebels violently at this notion and the rift flickers behind her eyes as she stares back at Delphine, disheartened. "If that's the way it is," she says flatly.

While the Envoy speaks his peace, Sarna goes quiet, frowning as he inevitably complicates what they see as a simple enough moral matter. And even though everyone else is ignoring her, a small smile tugs at her lips as Sarna hears Trina begin offering up information of her own free will. She sweeps her hand toward Trina, about to speak more about her potential usefulness, when Siika raises her hand and DLM-1 is suddenly deactivated. She listens to Siika make her case with a growing smile, her hands curling into fists on top of the table as she nods her head vehemently. "Hold up," she starts to say. "A moment ago it was essential we return your contact to his family, but now you're willing to sacrifice him because things are just too gray?" The girl bites her lip as Lincoln interjects, and again she's grateful for his ability to see clearly through the heart of a matter. Still, she is hopeful that this man will see the practicality of Siika's offer and lets the silence spin between them all for a long moment. Could he really afford to say no?

There are too many factors at play. With Ravace's words, Trina's spirits fall. It's bad enough when he occasionally, flippantly dehumanizes her with his words. It's a stab in her heart every time he refers to her as "Ms. Corina," a name that as far as she was concerned, was severed from her the same time she lost so much of the rest of her body. She was Trina, now. Just Trina. Her brother could remain the sole Corina in the Mech leagues. All according to that plan.

This plan, with all of its different permutations, is not so simple. She can't imagine what her life would be like if Ravace got his way and traded her for the one he keeps referring to as "farmboy." Sarna's plan sounds like group suicide, to her ears.

And then Siika makes her demonstration, toppling DLM-1 like a toy, making her point with more than just words. Could they do it? Would they be able to--

"Wait," Trina says, turning back to Siika. "What are you suggesting?"

She looks back to Lincoln. Again, that unexpected defense coming from him, and Trina wonders if this is costing the lawman anything. There was some exchange taking place between Ravace and Lincoln that was on a different level than Trina could comprehend.

Finally, Trina looks back to Delphine, and Ravace's last question rings in her ears. She wondered how Ravace could have known... but maybe this particular gambit he was trying to play would backfire.

"You know I can't lie to you," Trina says to Delphine. "To be honest, I don't think I'm much of a liar at all. But I especially can't lie to you. What... our guest... is referring to is a meeting I had on High Centre. They have plans. They want you. Maybe that's my fault for that, I don't know. But if they have you, then they won't bother trying to recruit the one that attacked you and Sarna in Tier. I've been trying to keep them from giving him their resources."

The blonde woman frowns as the two men state their points of view. There wasn't time for this kind of dialogue now. Torn between what she knows she's not to be involved in and what she feels deep down inside her is the right thing to do. But no matter what, she didn't like the idea of Trina being a sacrificial lamb. She takes an opportunity to slip around the end of the table while Ravace expounds, finding a spot close to and protective of Trina.

There had to be another way and she hopes one of the others comes up with it. And along come Siika. Delphine thinks Siika is just a brilliant being. But would Trina go for it. She seemed on the brink of disowning her masters but would she fall. Delphine watches the others talk in slow motion until she feels the heat of Sarna's words assaulting her. She looks away and to Trina, a rare helpless look on the Acolyte's features. "I'm sorry." She steps towards Trina and places a hand on her shoulder. "Even if I can't act, you can. But you don't have to do this if it's not what you want, Trin." Delphine remembered her name, reminded of it by Ravace.

Then it's Trina's turn to talk. The woman's passion moves the Acolyte and focuses on Trina's words and expression, and gradually grows perplexed. "Malideus? What do you mean they want me? The Regency? For what? They could request me from the Enclave."

Taferi Ravace makes a show of taking a deep breath and sighing. He shakes his head, like a teacher disappointed with the students' work or behavior.

Delphine was right in that there wasn't time for the kind of dialog Ravace and Lincoln had engaged in. Nevertheless, Ravace seems unable to resist poking back at the Sheriff of Tier. Perhaps it's because the man laughed at him. "It's called compromise, Cuz. A Family Circle can't get by without it. You should know that."

He turns then to Siika. "That's pretty impressive what you did to my bodyguard. I take it I have you to thank for sending him back my way? I was mighty disappointed when I had to leave him behind back in that cantina. And I'd like to hear what you have planned, but maybe we can all just take a step back for a moment and get some perspective."

With Sarna's passionate stance, and Delphine moving to take a more defensive posture next to Trina, Ravace raises his hands in a placating manner again. "I'm going to be honest with y'all. I don't give a womprat's tail for the farmboy, and I don't know that his family's business is going to mean that much in the long run when it comes to feeding prospective troops. You say you trust the she-bot? Fine. But she's Regency hardware, from toe to tongue, and you'd best be careful what you do with it."

A pause, and then Ravace takes his seat. He pulls a napkin from the table, sets it in his lap, and picks up a spoon. "Maybe we can all just sit a spell, enjoy the soup like our good Sheriff here, and talk about nicer things. Like some other way y'all might like to see The Regency fall."

There is no offense at Lincoln's interruption; Siika is not a politician, and to be honest, she feels terribly out of place here. The only reason she spoke up after all, is because her friend has a very nasty gun pointed at her head. Her attention is pulled by Sarna's defiance toward Delphine, though, and her hands begin to fidget with each other, metal rods quietly scraping against each other.

Trina's question deserves a straight answer, and she provides one. "That we make you a good liar," she answers, meaningfully. "Strip away some of the control those bastards have on you."

At the revelation Trina provides, however, Siika's expression becomes alarmed. She turns from Trina to look at Sarna and Delphine, literally feeling goosebumps on her neck and a shudder in her belly. Malideus. His name alone sends bugs crawling across her skin, and she shakes her head defiantly. "They don't want it to be a formal request," she tells Delphine. "Can't you see?" She turns to Lincoln then, recalling how he spoke of politicians and laws. "A formal request would be above board. That's not what this is about."

She can appreciate Revace's attempts at dispelling the tensions that have formed. She, too, wants for it all to be nicer, easier. More conversational. She doesn't answer the Envoy's inquiry of her, at first, not until she's taken up a spoon and tilted it into the bisque, remembering what was said of Telmaria and seafood. For at least a moment, she's able to separate from the tense conversation and look forward to what deliciousness awaits, and delicious indeed it is. After taking a first bite, she is visibly pleased by it, and dives the spoon back in for more.

"Regency hardware isn't impossible to crack," she tells Revace. A gesture is given to Trina. "Maybe you can tell DLM-1 to stand down, let her enjoy this?" She raises a spoonful of bisque, indicatively, then turns to look at Trina with a bright expression. "It's //really// good."

Lincoln just smirks over his soup a bit, shaking his head at Ravace's words and tones, "You've been gone too long then if you think compromising over some things would ever be allowed. Some things simply are non negotiable." With that however he trails off, letting the others conduct their discussions but always keeping himself with a wary eye on the host.

Trina's words bring Sarna to her seat and she sits heavily, her mouth agape at this revelation. She looks from Trina, to Delphine, to Lincoln and then closes her eyes, afraid to imagine what Malideus might be like with the resource of the Regency behind him. For the first time there's a true sliver of fear forming in her belly, even while she feels guilty for her eruption at Delphine, knowing now her friend is a target of the Regency. That's not Trina's fault at all, she realizes, but hers. If Delphine hadn't put herself in harm's way to protect Sarna from Malideus, she never would have drawn their attention. It all suddenly makes too much terrible sense to her. "Exactly!" she whispers to Delphine, gesturing toward Siika as she comes to the same conclusion. "They don't want you as a neutral party, fulfilling a contract. They want you... to fight on //their// side. Against the rest of us."

Things have only gotten more complicated, and the Envoy's speech drives it home even more. She does take one word of advice though, and glancing over at Lincoln to see his distrustful look at their host, she picks up her spoon to take a taste of the bisque before it goes cold. "It really is good," she agrees, trying to smile at Siika.

The suggestion to sit and drink to the destruction of her home is a bridge too far for Trina. High Centre, with its sprawling towers, glass forests, glowing streets, and infinite streams. The Regency, with its high society balls, its robust systems of education, and its galactic technology. She can hate what those in power might do. She can become enraged at how they might mistreat people that aren't "human" enough. But she can't hate what The Regency itself is supposed to be.

Trina makes her way to the table, bends down, and picks up a bowl and spoon. She looks at her friends... true friends, all of them... then turns a cold eye upon Ravace.

"You didn't want to eat with a Regency spy," Trina says. "You won't have to."

She turns and takes her soup with her. She looks at DLM-1, then the Zabrak in turn. They might try to stop her, but she didn't think so. The showdown was done. Ravace made his play, and in a way, Trina lost. Not as bad as it could have gone, but this meeting cost something, with the potential of costing more, depending on what Siika had in mind.

"I'll eat on the ship. I know how the way."

Delphine is rocked to her core and she sinks down in the nearest chair next to Trina as Siika reveals that the Regency wants her for some nefarious reason so out of bounds that it can't go through the Enclave. She sits silent, staring at the bowl of soup set before her chair. This was all very civilized, planting the seeds of war, committing first acts of sedition. Deciding to betray something, where you came from, people who trusted you, or maybe your own principles and ideals. It's not possible for her to eat. Struggling she says, "Why would they...I...I can't do that. They can't //force// me to..." She looks at Trina. "Can they? The Enclave would cut them off!" Then she watches Trina take her soup and take off, having agreed to Siika's proposal. "I need to call in when we get back to the ship..."

Ravace eats his soup and hums with exaggerated pleasure. He smiles over a bit at Lincoln, and looks even more pleased as others dig in. This was his meal he arranged for them. If they could eat his soup, maybe they could listen to his ideas. That's how things got done.

"Regency hardware," Ravace says, repeating Siika's words. His eyes are on Trina as he says it. "Maybe it can be broken. I'll leave that to you."

As Trina heads towards the door, Ravace nods once to DLM-1 and the Zabrak. DLM-1 lowers his arm and takes a step back, while the Zabrak raises his shirtsleeve to his mouth and speaks quiet words into a hidden commlink.

The bowl and silverware could be recovered later. It would be a much nicer meal without having to consort with Regency sympathizers.

Heartfelt remorse is upon Siika's face as she watches Trina take her soup and make for a departure. She's asked a lot of her friend, perhaps too much; Siika dislikes the Regency as much as anyone else at this table, but she can also understand Trina's hesitation. The mech fighter had made a case for what the Regency had to offer; Siika is one who values safety and security, and considering the pirate attack on her starship, Trina's argument for Regency protection and security makes sense.

To a point.

The problem being... the price is too great to pay.

Leaning down, she gestures to Vee-Four. "Go on," she tells him, and motions for him to follow Trina. "She shouldn't be alone." Plus, Vee is still carrying her borrowed blaster in his chassis, and, well... she doesn't want Trina to go without the promise of protection. Just in case. With Lincoln, Sarna and Delphine here, frankly, Siika doesn't think she'll need it.

"Anything can be broken," she assures Revace, before looking toward Delphine. "I can scramble the signal through that Ghost Ship, to disguise our location." She nods her head in assurance, wanting to keep everyone, including their host, safe from other dangers that lurk in the darkness.

Sarna has no answer for Delphine's outrage, and stares down into her bowl. Trina's departure brings a heaviness to her heart that she finds difficult to fathom, but as she delicately takes another mouthful, she looks up hopefully at Siika's insistence she can pull it off. "Siika is the best," she tells Ravace with a somber nod of her head. "It's because of her we were able to track you down at all." Ravace is an ally, whether they agree with all of his methods or his outlook on Trina's loyalties or not, and even the idealistic Jedi knows that without uniting, the Regency will only be emboldened against those weaker worlds.

____________________________________________________________________________

Once the excitement settles somewhat, the meal becomes easier to stomach, by every definition. Each dish is presented one after the other, in the Telmarian fashion. The bisque and bread is not replaced by sweet seabass until every drop and crumb is consumed or consigned away. After the seabass comes the crab legs, which yields to a strange yet satisfying creme brulee. Taferi avoids all topics political or serious until the last spoon of custard is licked clean from his spoon.

"You know I told them before you arrived, 'Something light. Nothin' too heavy.' Any other bite and y'all'd have to watch me roll out of here."

Setting down his spoon, Taferi pushes back from the table and stands. Before he can go far, a pair of protocol droids enter from the hall, bearing trays with cups and pots. They set a cup, each small and delicate, in front of all of the guests, then poor a dark, rich smelling Kaf into each. Taferi waits until the after-dinner drink is served, then picks up his cup and begins to pace, slowly.

"I think we might have got off on the wrong foot earlier. Now that our bellies are full, and before our minds get too sluggish, what say we try again?"

Much of Siika's food has, in fact, been consigned away. She hasn't enjoyed a five course meal since she was a young girl, largely because her body simply can't handle it. She doesn't speak openly of her condition often, but truth be told, had she eaten every morsel presented to her, she'd have ended up in the refresher getting sick.

A part of her may have lost some of her limited appetite by Trina's absence, but it is another thing she doesn't speak of. Instead, the kaf is met with a welcome expression, and as the drinks are presented, she seems to consider something. After that momentary expression of consideration, she reaches into the belt encircling her waist, and retrieves a pack of stim-sticks fresh from Lincoln's home world. The pack is presented, and with a raised eyebrow, she offers it first toward Revace. It's his house, after all, and the decision lies with him whether the lot of them should light up indoors or not.

With Trina securely away aboard the //Servant Mercy// the dinner does go easier. The topics include how they all came together, the pirate attack en route, and various Nahrahm customs that are or aren't practiced by the two very different yet similar men at the table - their down home debate and one upmanship continuing lightly.

Delphine eats elegantly but as she was very hungry she pleases the host in that regard in any case. But then she stops before touching the caf. "Let me lay out where -I- am. You were not on Orum's Bastion to meet me, but instead that poor boy who is now in Regency custody. So however I was contracted to be there - is still a mystery to me. It's very clear you were expecting us. Things may have begun more pleasantly if you hadn't threatened to abduct our friend, even though I too had my doubts until she let me look inside her mind. Then I knew Trina was with us, not her masters."

If Ravace was hoping to impress any of them with this impressive procession of courses, it might be Sarna. For the last several years, while trapped within the Hypergate, she and the others on board had nothing but a genetically processed protein ration and their own recycled water to subsist on. The delights of real food are still a discovery, and she can't keep herself from indulging. She delights in the conversation and listens intently even if she is focused on the food, casting a look once in a while at the marshal and then Delphine as they trade remarks with the Ravace.

The crab legs, however, are a struggle, and Sarna hopes that no one notices when she cheats and uses the Force to crack them open instead of the awkward implement provided. It's worth the extra effort, of course, and as she digs in, she glances guiltily at Siika, who's barely touched any of it. She doesn't really know why, but something about the girl's frail frame hints of an answer, and she gives Siika a reassuring smile as she swallows and dabs the corner of her mouth with a napkin. Just in time to hear Delphine speak up in defense of Trina. This was news she had not yet heard, and she sits up straight, her eyes going wide as she looks at Delphine. She had looked into Trina's mind to see her true intention? She wonders if that revelation will be enough to convince Ravace and she picks up a glass of wine and takes a sip.

At the offer of the stim sticks, Taferi's smile broadens. "None for me just now if I'm going to sleep at all tonight. But by all means, help yer'self."

The room the group shares is normally used for conferences. While it is clean, with a tall ceiling and facilities for holo presentations at one end of the room, it is also empty, with very little in the way of decoration. Taferi cradles his cup with both hands as he looks around the wide open space, and his slow pacing remains constrained to just circling the table.

"Maybe she's with you. Maybe she's with her handlers in The Regency. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not take any chances. A lot of lives are on the line. Why take the risk? If you can look into her head and see her intentions, who's to say The Regency with all of their resources can't turn around and do the same? Who's to say she would stop them from tryin'?"

He pauses to take a sip from his cup. "Here's what I do know. There's an idea circling the stars. One I'd like to see come to fruition. We can't take on The Regency directly right now, but we can hurt them. A little bit here. A little bit there. Go on long enough and more people will stop being afraid. When they stop being afraid, we'll grow in number. And then someday. Well. That's my dream. What I want to know is, what is your dream? How do you want to see this galaxy changed?"

Smiling amicably, Siika withdraws one of the slender black sticks. She snaps her fingers at the tip, igniting it with a small spark that sends a thin plume of purple-black smoke into the air. The pack is left on the table, should anyone else desire one for themselves.

She sips her kaf and smokes her stim-stick in silence for a moment, until Revace asks them how they want to see the galaxy changed. At this, she frowns in a contemplative manner, still silent for now. Her expression moves from one to the other, not at all wanting to be the first to speak. However, it seems clear that something is on her mind... but talk of hurting the monster seems to have her feeling a bit seasick. She fidgets when nervous, and her free hand is doing just that, fidgeting with the handle of her mug in an awkward way.

"Well we have ways both technical," Delphine looks at Siika then at Sarna. "And other. But...you're right. She's our concern. That is...unless you are trying to involve all of us in your...what?" She takes a sip of the dark caf holding the delicate cup between her manicured fingers. "What are you organizing all of this against? To defend against High Centre aggression?" She may sound ignorant but she only knows what's on the news. "In the long run, it may be prudent. I, however, am not allowed to advise on these issues. But if Trina is an example of what the Regent Militant does to their own people...and looking to recruit a member of the Enclave, I personally am finding their tactics distasteful."

The youngest guest at the table looks down into her cup of kaf as Ravace paces around the table where they are seated. Sarna's lower lip is caught between her teeth and she seems to be puzzling over the speech he is making. Her expectation is that Delphine will once again take the lead, considering her relevant experience, and she's not disappointed as the Acolyte raises questions she herself has. When she finishes her pronouncement, Sarna rests both her hands on the table and speaks up, perhaps in spite of her better judgment. "Forgive my interruption, as well as my ignorance," she chuckles in a self-depracating way, but her tone turns more serious as she goes on. "I'm at a disadvantage, since I'm a newcomer to this galaxy. I understand your goals and even your methods, but I need to understand why. Why would it be worth it to go against this Regency? What are their crimes that make anything short of resistance and risking our lives out of the question?" She's reminded again of Delphine's neutral stance as well as the Regency desire to manipulate her, and she frowns to herself.

The smiles on Ravace's face have melted, and his eyes narrow. His pacing stops as well, placing him just behind Siika's seat. From there, he looks back and forth between Delphine and Sarna.

"People can get used to just about anything. Orbital bombardments. Racial divisions. Genocide. Sometimes, people try to convince themselves, 'Well, those people probably had it comin'.' Sometimes, people are afraid of losing what they have. But wrong is wrong, and the price of tyranny is too high."

Ravace's pacing resumes. He continues cradling the cup in his hands without sipping from it. "We have to take a stand. Our enemy is a bully, and sometimes the only way to make the bully stop is to stand up to them. I don't know what the galaxy is like where you're from, Sarna, but here, people have died simply because they looked a little bit too different from you and I. We have to take a stand. If not for us, then for them. I need people of good conscience to stand with me. Maybe I'm mistaken, but I think there's not a person at this table that wouldn't stand up to right what's wrong, even if the act would cost them."

There's no discomfort when Revace is standing behind her seat. Siika is simply too busy considering all that's being said, all that's being placed on the table, to be intimidated or concerned, even though she should be. It's no secret that she stumbled into all this, and only got caught up in it because DLM-1 tried to blast her friends.

She takes a long drink from the mug of kaf, but suddenly the stim-stick has become unappealing. She douses it against one of her cybernetic fingers, leaving a tiny scar that will easily be removed later, and sets the item down upon the edge of the cup's saucer.

"There's a reason I don't take jobs in Regency space," she says quietly. She may be human, but she is not pure. Her limited encounters with the Enclave's hunter have proven how some view people like herself and Trina, and she shudders at the thought of what might happen if her self-made technology were to fall into Regency hands. Beyond this, there are files... countless files stored on board the //Servant Mercy// that detail some truly radical scientific propositions. Projects Siika has not the money or resources to pursue, but, files that could be dangerous in the wrong hands.

She doesn't explain why she doesn't go into Regency space, but there is a great deal to the tone of those few words that speaks of a great conviction, born of fear. She looks from one face to the other, and for a moment, she is nothing more than the young woman, 22-standard years of age, who stole her rich parents' starship and went on a joyride through the Cresh. Young, fragile, afraid.

"What I'm afraid of," she says quietly, "is that some day, there won't //be// anywhere left." She shakes her head, frowning. "If I lose my ship, I... I'll lose everything." A pause, her hands fidgeting for a moment as her eyes drift down to her mug of kaf. However, when she looks up again, the fear has dribbled away, retreating against her own stalwart stubborn nature. "But what the hell good would it be if I've got nowhere else to fly?"

Her eyes go from Sarna to Delphine, for the moment refusing to look at Revace. She doesn't yet trust him, for he hasn't earned it. They have.

At Ravace's words, Delphine's expression changes as she takes a good look at herself and what she would and would not stand up to. She always had a stubborn streak and an overwrought sense of justice that her Proctors tried weed out of her. But the couldn't prune her conscience. She looks at Siika while she speaks, compassion and mild shock at the confession of ship larceny. "Siika..." she says softly to the woman and touches her hand lightly in support. "You're brilliant. This guy here..." she says with a flash of seaglass eyes towards Ravace. "He'd be lucky to have your support. I just...I don't know what to do with the Regency after me...and, or...the Telgossian Malideus. Are you aware of this being?" she asks Ravace. "Surely you have some rough form of intel network feeding you information...like that we all were on our way here."

As she listens to Ravace's litany of charges against the Regency, Sarna's hands clench into fists, her expression excited and eyes glimmering and distant. Through the Force, the echoes of battles she's only heard about in her history lessons become all too real, mingling with those of the future, here in her own lifetime, where a similar tyranny and oppression is rising up to strangle the galaxy. After everything she'd been raised to represent, it's virtually impossible for her not to feel called to Ravace's cause. She glances at Siika, the ripples of the other girl's fear brushing against her perceptions, and she can't help but try to send her a gentle reassurance.

Even as she feels rallied, though, Sarna fights back her trepidation at how Delphine could react to such a call to fight injustice. Would she defy the Enclave? "My Order is dedicated to upholding peace and justice," she finally says. "I might be the only one of my kind here, but I can't reject what I feel the Force would have me do, as a Jedi. Lady Aurelia," she turns to look at her, eyes filling. "If the Enclave can't trust you to to follow your own conscience, how can you serve them faithfully? Join me instead and we will show them what it means to wield for the Force for good!"

The currents of the conversation are not lost on Taferi Ravace. He has not mystical connection like Sarna or Delphine, but he has years of experience navigating tricky negotiations. As he comes back around the head of the table, he watches Siika as she speaks, wisely remaining quiet and listening fully to her words. It's the first lesson he learned as a negotiator: active listening.

He listens to Delphine and Sarna next. Even as the answer to Delphine's question forms in his mind, he hears Sarna's declaration and challenge to The Acolyte. That was a mine. Unexploded ordinance that could disrupt their pleasant conversation and ruin whatever progress they might make. He would need to try and diffuse it before it became a problem.

Ravace smiles and gestures towards himself as if he's presenting a prize. "Tier is a part of my home. I've seen a recording of what happened, right there in front of the Marshall's office. A lot of people are talking about it, and not just on Valentine's."

Ravace gestures with his cup towards Delphine. "Like I said earlier, I don't have a spy network. I have a number of good friends all around the galaxy, and some of them are kind enough to share a few things with me. That's how this coalition is going to begin, you know. As friends. I wouldn't be a good friend if I told you to drop everything you know and leave your home to follow me on some crusade. If we're going to have any hope of success, we need to be accepting of all people and respect their views."

"Now," Ravace gestures back to Sarna. "I'm told that The Enclave values its neutrality and independence. I respect it, but I also know it can't last. To do nothing when evil men do evil things is to condone it. I'm sure The Enclave will come to learn this someday, too. But they won't have any chance of that if people like Lady Aurelia leave their company. She won't be able to show them the light."

Delphine's compliment has Siika's face turning a deeper shade of red, and she smiles awkwardly toward the Acolyte. The humility, however, is short lived. She as well sees the munition that forms between the two mystics, and it has the awkwardness draining from her posture. She sits upright, looking from one to the other in quiet alarm. Just as she's about to speak up, however, Revace steps in. It's a good thing, too; one thing she certainly lacks is tact.

The odd feeling of reassurance seems out of place, and it has her furrowing her brow in slight confusion. Reaching again for her stim-stick, she re-lights it with another snap of her fingers (nothing special here, that's just how you light them!), and looks to Revace as she smokes, listening.

"If he's right," she says, and turns to look back toward Sarna and Delphine. "If he's right, then there will come a time when lines are drawn. You know? Perhaps..." Her attention lingers upon Delphine. "Perhaps you can warn them. Let 'em know that there are developments. Make sure they're ready. Maybe the Enclave wants to stay neutral, maybe that's good." She glances toward Sarna meaningfully, before looking back to Delphine. "But... the thing is, this kind of stuff is inevitable." She gestures toward Revace. "If not him, it'll be someone else. And if these rumors are true, if the Regency is going to make a push... lines are gonna be drawn, whether any of us like it or not."

The impassioned plea of Sarna causes a mix of fear, uncertainty, and frustration to well up within Delphine and she opens herself up to Sarna as if to say //I am with you as much as I can be.// Then Ravace voices her argument for her. "You remember when we first me? I asked you to come to the Enclave to see how we operate and find support and work. You still have not been to Vait." Her gaze doesn't stray from Sarna's hazel eyes and then nods to Siika. "I must report back to the Enclave. It's all I've known. I have family there." Closing her eyes she takes a ragged breath. "But they still may not choose a side in this." She knows she'll need to be careful of how much she reports to them but they may have information that could help. She spreads her fingers out on the table and studies them somberly. "And if the Regency doesn't know I'm anything other than an Enclave member, I may still be able to move freely in their space, which could help. And help Trina, too."

Were they right, and Sarna was being shortsighted, too blinded by her allegiance to do the right thing to see the nuances, the advantages to having an Enclave ally? Or perhaps she is acting out of a selfish desire /not/ to be the only one of her kind -- and to have her dearest friend by her side? Her brow is furrowed as she looks from each of them in turn. With her pleas causing nothing but a turmoil, she presses her lips together and her eyes flash defiantly at Delphine. "I remember," she replies, her voice even and sad at the same time. "But the more I've learned about the Enclave, the more I believe I would be betraying my /own/ training if I became one of them." She shakes her head. "That's my choice to make, just as you have yours." She gestures a slim hand toward Taferi Ravace and narrows her eyes. "Siika and Ravace have a valid point. I can accept that you can do more good under the wing of the Enclave, Delphine. They're your family, too."

She clears her throat and pivots on her chair so she can look more directly at Ravace, somehow singling herself out. "Could you use another 'good friend' in Tier to tell you things now and then? If that's all you're asking for at this point... it's the least that I could do."

A warm smile, a nod, and point of his finger at Sarna. It's smarmy. He knows it, but he can't help himself. "If you would be my friend, Ms. Sarna, that would be enough for me."

Ravace finishes the rest of his cup, sets it on the table, then walks back to the head of it. He doesn't sit down, but instead places both hands on the surface and leans forward. In some situations, the one standing is the one with the power. In other situations, it's the one sitting. Leaning into the conversation, lowering himself just a little, is Taferi's way of pushing the conversation towards it's finale.

"We can never find long and lasting happiness when we deny ourselves who we really are." He nods to Siika. "The Regency will continue to push for expansion, taking more resources and ending more lives in the process. It is inevitable, as you say. And if we are not true to ourselves, to our strengths and to our values, The Regency will go unopposed."

"These are the times that will try us. I've shared a meal with you, and I know that you're good people. Be true to yourselves." A brief pause, and he turns back to Delphine. "I think you're going to face some of the hardest choices a person can face. You'll have the choice of going along with the way things have always gone, or making a break. As long as you are true to yourself, you'll make the right choice, whichever that is."

Ravace stands up straight again and adjusts one of his cufflinks. "In time, we all come face to face with who we really are. I was born on Valentine's World. Your friend Trina was born on High Centre. It's part of who we are, and when there's enough pressure on our shoulders, are truest selves are often revealed."