Finding the Envoy with Friends

Tipsy Trader -- Tier City: Valentine's World

Inside the Tipsy Trader, the stone walls are painted a bright turquoise reminiscent of the Great Western Sea itself. Around the perimeter of the circular room are alcoves with booths, marked off by tasseled, draping curtains in various competing colors that sparkle with embroidery and beads. Round, colorfully-woven rugs decorate the tile flooring and absorb some of the ambient sound created by the usually festive crowd.

The central feature of the cantina is the bar itself, circled with stools for patrons and boasting a display of exotic liquors in decorative bottles arranged to tempt the thirsty crowd. Above, the ceiling is flecked with patterns of light cast from several lanterns hung at intervals around the room. To the right of the entrance is a small stage with tables gathered in front of it where musical performers put on a show several times a day.

--

Trina

With slender limbs and a narrow waist, Trina has the silhouette of a human female. At a glance, however, she could easily be mistaken for a droid. Both her arms and legs have been completely replaced, the incomplete outer surfaces of each appendage made up of a mixture of brushed aluminum and mirrored chrome. Wires and servos are exposed in places, either as an aesthetic choice or due to lack of funds to complete the work. More chrome covers the crown of her head and down the back of her neck, a sharp contrast to the tan flesh still visible over her cheeks and clavicle. One eye looks upon the world with a blue, human iris, the other takes in the light through an optical lens and sophisticated technology.

From her choice of attire, Trina shows no desire to blend in with the unmodified humans of Regency society. A gray tank-top reveals more than it hides, exposing where her synthetic shoulders meld with the remaining flesh of her upper body. All along her bare midriff, lines of metal contour with shape of her abs, a crude map of where bio-mechanical equipment has invaded her torso beneath her ribs. Simple black shorts function for the purposes of modesty, another wardrobe statement to show where her fully cybernetic legs blend with the remaining human anatomy. No shoes cover her feet, nor gloves cover her hands.

Siika

This young, human woman carries a skin tone that is somewhere between dark and fair, framed by black hair and brown eyes upon an angular face with full lips. She has an average height for her age, and her slender frame has just enough shape to be on the light side of curvy. Her thick hair is braided and pulled back into a ponytail, revealing some sort of cybernetic enhancement affixed to her head. The sleek, black metal covers part of her ears and wraps around the back of her head, starting at the temples and disappearing behind her hair. The skin around this technology has the appearance of scar tissue, suggesting that it is a permanent implant that cannot be removed.

Woven fabric in earth tones is draped over her upper body, the darker weave breathable and fitting much like that of a tank top. Beneath is a lighter fabric that drapes down her arms, covering part of her hands. Black metal piping winds down her fingers, appearing to be some sort of cybernetic implant lining what would be her bone structure, complete with tiny servos where the knuckles would be. The fingers themselves are encased in a material that fits like a second skin; the same material is worn up to her neck, suggesting it may be a bodysuit of some type, closely matching her natural skin tone. A leather belt is clinched around a slender waist, matching the necklace worn around her neck. The necklace is adorned with three artistic baubles of mysterious origin. Her legs are covered by trousers of a similar color to her woven, tunic-style top, fitting just loose enough to hide the cybernetic supports worn on her legs. Brown leather boots are worn up to her calves, and a single earring dangles from the left side of the cybernetic halo upon her head.

Sarna

A young human female of average height who appears to be in her late teens. Her face is rounded with youth, her nose slightly upturned, yet the large hazel eyes flecked with green and gold that dominate her features are intelligent and confident. Her long, dark brown hair is worn unbound, allowing it to fall in loose waves to her waist.

A white, cowled cloak covers her shoulders and falls to her polished brown hide boots. A pair of layered tunics in contrasting earthen brown tones are covered by a rust-hued tabard that's cinched at her narrow waist with a broad obi and a leather belt lined with pouches for storage. A holster for a blaster hangs at her hip, while the hilt of a lightsaber is clipped to her belt. On her legs she wears a pair of white, tight-fitting trousers tucked into her boots.

Delphine

Bright, light, golden blonde tresses are what first strikes whenever this human woman catches the eye. They part near the center framing her lovely and expressive features, with a smile that is broad and quick, and flow down to her elbows. She's of average height for her species with an athletic frame and a healthy build. Her nose is narrow, straight and pert, fitting nicely between her large eyes and full lips. Her brows are slightly darker and expertly styled. Long dark lashes frame aquamarine eyes that shine with confidence and intelligence. High cheekbones and a well-balanced chin and forehead lend perfection to her stunning appearance.

She wears a lightweight white tunic with light grey pants that go to mid-calf. Over this she wears a crisp black tabard cinched at the waist by a black leather obi and matching utility belt. A clean black blaster is strapped to her left hip in a black leather holster. She wears short black leather boots that leave her legs bare for a few inches before her pants hem begins. She may also wear a light grey cloak over her outfit and black leather gloves.

Sarna

A young human female of average height who appears to be in her late teens. Her face is rounded with youth, her nose slightly upturned, yet the large hazel eyes flecked with green and gold that dominate her features are intelligent and confident. Her long, dark brown hair is worn unbound, allowing it to fall in loose waves to her waist.

A white, cowled cloak covers her shoulders and falls to her polished brown hide boots. A pair of layered tunics in contrasting earthen brown tones are covered by a rust-hued tabard that's cinched at her narrow waist with a broad obi and a leather belt lined with pouches for storage. A holster for a blaster hangs at her hip, while the hilt of a lightsaber is clipped to her belt. On her legs she wears a pair of white, tight-fitting trousers tucked into her boots.

Taferi Ravace

Like many of the Nahrahm, Taferi is tall, svelte, and very attractive, with his flowing black hair and hypnotic brown eyes. Taferi is dressed like a business man or merchant, wearing a silk shirt and pressed trousers. There is an air of sophistication about Taferi. If he's faking being part of the upper-crust, he's a good actor.

--

It is afternoon and the cantina is quiet in that way that establishments have of being in between lunch and dinner. The Acolyte sits nursing what looks like a fruit juice but may have something more in it. Between walks to the beach and the lake, Delphine has avoided the Marshal's office most hours of the day, slipping in come evening to her bunk in an unused cell. She takes the long stick of wood holding several chunks of cut fruit and picks one off to eat it. At least she was getting her vitamins with this routine. She turns to the barkeep and slides a token over to him. "Play it again, Samm," she says before a mournful romantic tune begins to emit from the brightly lit up music box.

Siika Gast is seated in a booth, ignoring the half-full Valentine Martini before her in favor of the stim-stick thats keeping her from going absolutely stir crazy. Her eyes linger upon a datapad that rests before her, tracking the movements and digital transmissions of one DLM-1, a combination protocol/security droid that damn near killed her and her friends on Orum's Bastion.

Through a feat of technological and scientific bravery, DLM-1 had suffered a few modifications while in Siika's possession. A tracking beacon was installed, designed to monitor the droid's location and send key data points by way of a cleverly hidden monitor sequence built into its operational programming. These transmissions were slaved through an old, derelict Telford-class Regency ship, one which lies adrift in the Silke asteroid belt. Lady Aurelia and Padawan Sarna, along with Siika, had nearly lost their lives installing the shadow programming aboard the derelict cruiser, designed to conceal the fact that these transmissions have been forwarded along to Siika's starship, and then, to Siika herself. Layers upon layers of intrigue, designed to conceal who was behind the droid's modifications.

Spotting Delphine, Siika snatches up her datapad and drink, and walks over to Delphine's table, clearly vexed. "You know, I'm starting to wonder if I didn't botch the whole thing."

The last time Trina (just Trina) made her way into the Cantina off the Tier City Bazaar, a festival jammed the streets and crowded the booths, making it nigh impossible to hear one's own thoughts. The drinks flowed, colorful garb flashed like banners, and the timid cyborg made a handful of friends. This time, the crowds are less. There are many open booths. A different bartender than Trina remembers. A different feel, but the same place. Almost comforting, like going home.

Less shy than before, Trina marches to the center of the room and scans the booths and barstools. She lets her facial recognition software do most of the work for her. When her HUD lights up green, she smiles.

A few steps later, she stands near where Delphine and Siika are sitting. "Can I join you two?" She doesn't wait for a response before sliding onto a booth, her smile widening from ear to ear.

Taking a break from packing for a morning trip to the mountains, Sarna has wandered into the cantina in time to hear the moving ballad start to play. She goes to the bar and orders a drink, smiling her thanks to the bartender and doing a double take as she spots Siika and then Trina heading across the room. Excited, she starts to follow after them -- then sees they've both arrived at Delphine's table, and she hesitates in spite of herself. It was more than obvious to her that her friend was avoiding her, and she ultimately decides to ignore her unease and approach. The girl takes a sip of her drink, straightens her shoulders and strides over. "Hi, friends," she greets, glancing to each of them in turn before settling on Siika's datapad. "I hope I'm not interrupting. Are you giving us a report?"

The signal still has not come in. Whether Siika botched the job remains to be seen. Wherver Ravace is at this moment, it's not in the Cantina.

Actually, the site of Siika breaks Delphine out of her melancholy reverie and her mood is lifted. She smiles warmly at Siika and replies, "I doubt that. What seems to be the problem?" As Trina comes in the Acolyte is both pleased and wary at her return to Valentine's World. "Trina! So good to see you," the blonde woman says with genuine admiration for the mech fighter who'd been through so much. She viewed both the cybenetically enhanced women as stronger for their travails, though Trina's connection to Kalden still gives her pause. "I wasn't expecting to see you back here already."

As Sarna slides into the bar, Delphine sees her hesitate and it pains her that her friend thinks she's unwelcome at all. She reaches out with a comforting mental touch. //You are my friend and I love you.// But then she waits to hear what Siika has to say.

"Trina!" A brightened expression comes upon Siika's face at sight of her fellow cyber-person, and she poses no complaint to the mech-fighter's confident approach. "Cheers," she offers, and raises her drink to offer a toast. "Are you holding up well enough?" she asks.

While she carries no extra-normal clairvoyance, Siika has a very good idea what seems to be standing between Sarna and Delphine. The former gets a strong look; one of those 'get your ass over here and sit down before I drag you over here' looks. She waits until Sarna has joined, before shaking her head toward the young Jedi. "A boring one," she tells Sarna, before looking to answer Delphine's question. "I'm getting transmissions from the droid," she says, tapping the datapad indicatively. "So, at least part of my programming has worked. Unless some wizard sliced the poor guy and undid what I did, without creating //any// glitches in the core programming. I dunno." The young woman fidgets nervously. "I guess I'm just going stir crazy. I thought something would have happened by now. I'm..." She looks around, feeling embarrassed. "I'm not the most patient woman."

A flock of night birds take flight in Trina's stomach at the warm greeting offered by Siika. After everything she'd been through the last few days... all of the tests and double-talk and straight up dissembling... this was nice. The cantina didn't smell as clean as the last, sophisticated High Centre restaurant she'd visited, but that somehow made the place that much more real. And these were here friends.

Trina offers Delphine one of her best smiles. "I'm holding up. I volunteered for a fresh assignment that should be much more interesting and less dangerous than the last."

To Sarna, Trina says, "If you're interrupting anything, so am I. I just got here." A moment later, Trina turns her eyes to scan the floor. "Where's Vee-Four? He's such a good little boy. Is he-" A memory of a holo. A dark figure. Vee-Four hurling through the air. "He's not hurt, is he?"

Sarna settles into a seat and though she doesn't reply more explicitly to Delphine's conveyed thoughts, she does shoot the blonde a warm smile, visibly relaxing, and then she chuckles at Siika's friendly but demanding look. "Well, I'm glad we're all here, then. I'm inclined to believe it's more than mere coincidence."

Curious about the transmission coming through from the hacked droid, Sarna leans in to decipher the readouts on Siika's datapad. "Let me see... I think it's working properly," she says, "and that's a good thing. Patience is not easy, even for me, but try not to worry." She takes a sip of her brandy and gives Siika a reassuring smile.

As Trina's gaze darts around in search of Vee-Four, Sarna laughs and waves a hand placatingly. "Hurt? No, no. He's getting a tune-up and an oil bath for the next couple of days. He deserves a bit of a treat after... well. After everything."

The datapad remains calm. A signal is present, but it's the continuous, low-level data indiciating that the droid is still functional, and the link is still present. There is a moment of static, a rise in signal integrity moving towards a positive confirmation... but then it dissipates. No Ravace yet.

Sitting on the other side of Siika, Delphine leans over as well, though she's not as technical as any of the other women sitting around this table. The usually vivacious blonde is quieter than usual, not only literally but also in her mannerisms. It's as if some of the shine has come off the bloom, or the bloom won't come again until the season changes. Then as she watching the display the blip disappears. Eyes locked on the screen she exclaims, "Wait! Where did it go?"

The mere thought of Vee-Four being damaged has Siika looking from Trina to Sarna with visible alarm and concern. Fortunately, Sarna eases concerns over her favorite droid's safety, and she uncurls her fingers from the martini glass, breathing a sigh of relief.

Delphine's exclamation draws Siika's attention back to the datapad, similarly alarmed. "Wh..." Snuffing out her stim-stick, she draws the datapad over and quickly patters in commands, rewinding the data stream and watching the spike in static.

For the next few moments, Siika becomes uncharacteristically quiet. Her eyes dance back and forth, almost in a trance like state. What's happening behind those brown eyes is the mind of a genius at work, playing out series after series of potential causes for such an incident.

With sudden alarm, Siika flicks the fabric away from her right hand wrist, revealing the small computer built into her cybernetics. Her left hand comes dangerously close to punching in the shutdown procedure, but then she stops, curls her fingers away from the wrist computer, and begins chewing on her lip.

"Dank ferrik," she whispers to herself, and keeps her eyes glued to the datapad. "Ladies... I'm totally probably over reacting here, but, like... be vigilant."

With the commotion over the datapad, Trina tenses, her back going rigid and straight. Like a droid. She raises one of her hands towards the datapad, her palm opening and opening again to reveal her scan-reader. But then she stops and pulls away. This was Siika's work. And Siika was better at it than she was.

Trina looks back across the table at Delphine. Her mind goes back to the moments after she was shot and the questions. Delphine. This was another test of loyalty, wasn't it?

She looks to Sarna. What would Sarna do in her shoes? Not that she wore shoes, anymore. But Sarna would be honest. She'd say what was on her mind. Diffuse the whole situation and make sure her friend was safe.

"Delphine, there's something I need to tell you."

"Oh!" Sarna exclaims at the blip on the screen, and she watches in fascination as Siika shifts into genius analytic mode. The girl chews on her lower lip then arches her brows at Siika's admonition to remain observant, her dark head nodding. "Got it. Let's hope it happens again."

Something about the change in shading of Trina's emotional coloring and the tone of her voice causes Sarna to look over at her, even though she's addressing Delphine, and concern registers on her face.

The datapad lights up. Strong signal. Then the secondary notification goes green, giving its full confirmation. The droid made contact with Ravace, and they were not on Valentine's World. Coordinates float across the screen, triangulated and confirmed from multiple sources to produce not just a system name, but the planet and city, positive coordinates within a city's block: Temeria, not far from the shipyards.

Pieces fall together quickly in the Acolyte's mind and then it hits her with Siika's words. The Envoy was Nahrahm! "Could he be here on Valentine's World? Maybe this is all leading us here..." But then Trina speaks up and she senses something serious was about to go down. Keeping her fair features fixed with mild concern for the mech fighter, her attention is fully given but calm when she says to Trina, "Oh? What's that?" Placing her white manicured fingers flat on the table, she centers herself and feels calmer when she hears the datapad giving a signal again but keeps her focus on Trina and waits for what the woman has to say.

Brown eyes dart back to the datapad, and with a gasp of both surprise and relief, Siika finds herself eternally grateful that she trusted her instinct and did not trigger the shutdown procedure.

As she reads the technical data streaming across her datapad, the young woman's eyes go wide. "I'll be damned!" she exclaims. "It... it worked!" She points at the datapad twice, then quickly calls up a few commands.

"No no," she answers Delphine. "He's not here. He's on Temeria. Not far from the shipyards..."

Looking up, her eyes quickly move from one to the other. "What do we do?"

Trina's eyes are fixed on Delphine. She opens her mouth to speak, but the datapad's activity stops her words. The cyborg looks to Siika, excitement warring with the need to get something off her chest. How long would The Envoy remain on Temeria? How much time did they have?

Trina reaches over and takes Sarna's hand. She looks back into Delphine's eyes a moment, then turns back to Siika.

"We go and find him. You have a fast ship and powerful friends. Let's find him before someone else does."

Again, Trina's eyes, one blue, one cybernetic, return to Delphine. They would have time to talk on the ship. Trina would find the time, and all would be made right.

As the excitement sweeps everyone up Delphine is serene outwardly, though she's having several thoughts at once. Foremost, she wonders what Trina will have to say, though she does indeed know it will now have to wait until they're underway. As to Sheriff Hotpants, he survived without two Force Users to help him out before. He can do without them now. But that's only if...

"Hold on," Delphine says raising her hand in front of her. "The last time I tried to meet with this person, Trina was nearly killed. Many beings were seriously hurt. It's very probable that we are not the only people searching for Travace." She looks at Sarna. "Sarna. You weren't at Orum's Bastion. You could stay here and help Lincoln and stay safe."

Looking from one to the other, Siika is not always the one to make tactful decisions. These sorts of things are best left in the capable hands of others. However, at the suggestion that Sarna remains behind, she frowns.

"Have any of you ever watched one of those horror holos? You know, the ones out of Demos Prime? The dung //always// hits the power coupling when people split up." She looks at Sarna pointedly and asks, "What if that creep, the Telgossian, somehow finds out we've all gone off in search of this guy and comes after you?"

She shakes her head and suggests, "We stick together. We get in trouble together, we can get //out// of trouble. Together." A rueful smirk forms on her face and she says, meaningfully, "I think we've proven that by now, yeah?"

Gathering up her datapad, she stands up. "To the //Servant Mercy//." Then, to Sarna, she says, "And get Vee-Four. We'll need him."

Again, Trina opens her mouth to speak, but Siika has said everything she was about to say. As far as the former mech-pilot is concerned, the matter is settled. Trina squeezes Sarna's hand before releasing it, then pushes herself up and away from the table.

"It'll be nice riding in your ship somewhere outside the repair bay," Trina says to Siika. She turns back to Delphine. "Maybe we can sit together and talk without me being loaded full of pain killers."

Trina starts towards the door after Siika, then stops. She turns back to Sarna. "I know it's out of his jurisdiction, but do you think you can talk your sheriff friend into coming with us? We probably won't need it, but if Ravace's droid goes crazy again, we could use the extra fire power."

"Fine! We all go...though I think the sheriff should stay here at least. His people need him. "Delphine tries not to look sideways at Trina as Siika makes her speech, rising herself and picking up her cloak. It was obvious she wouldn't work for her to lesson the collateral damage for a mission that should be hers and hers alone. She still had a data chit for Ravace tucked away to deliver to him. When Trina speaks to her she tries to be compassionate if wary. She nods and says, "Yes, we should." Her lips curl in a small smile. It was time to go pack up her few belongings and let the Enclave know she would be heading to find her contact once more. And what indeed was this man they sought the envoy of? Which whisper on the galactic winds spoke of unrest in the Cresh? "If you'll excuse me I need to send a transmission before we go."

As the discussion begins over whether she should stay or go, Sarna rubs at the back of her neck and glances across toward Delphine and then Trina with a barely suppressed smile. "I guess we stick together," she agrees at last, and slams back the last of her drink, making a face as she does so. "But I think I'll let the marshal decide for himself?" she suggests, trying not to sound as irritated as she feels. Standing, the Padawan watches the others turn to go and produces a comlink from under her cloak. "Vee? I hope you're not in the middle of an oil, bath, pal," she speaks into the device.

Trina follows after Siika, eager to see where this next adventure will take her. She has faced dangerous situations before, certainly. She's even faced them with friends. This is different, somehow. She can't see where the next jump will take them, yet somehow being in the company of Siika, Delphine, and Sarna changes everything. Siika, in all the ways that they shared a circumstance. Sarna, the younger sister with the moral compass that seemed to point straight and true. Delphine, the more experienced, older sister that could see around corners and hold back a barrage through sheer will alone. They were all reflections of each other, yet unique and special. Trina felt special among them.

Maybe the conversation with Delphine on the ship would be easy. Yeah. And maybe Trina would win the B'Tan Lottery.

As the women leave and go in their different directions, the bartender finishes wiping down the counter and picks up the glasses left by the party. He returns to the bar, sets the glassware down, then fishes a knobby old communicator from an inside pocket of his beer-stained apron.

"Dolan," the bartender says, then listens to the squawked response. "No, yeah, it's me. Listen. Remember that favor I owe you? Tell your boss that he's about to get some company. A gaggle of girls, if you can believe it. And now we're square."

He puts away the communicator and goes back to wiping down the bar.