Personification Life, the Universe, & Everything [IC]

[Fvaarniimar]

Kuati Dreams
Coronet City

Nick really hoped that Sandy wouldn't think he was bailing on him, but scruffing himself up would take time to do (and worse, undo) and the man could take care of himself! The cat wanted to see the city proper - not the underworld. Selling spices with Amanda (or asking her to watch Alexandria) was an uncomfortable prospect to say the least, made more so by Meritari's opting to join Maghrl. He'd be alone!

“Count me i- er, that is, I, Nick, will also accompany you, Maghrl of the Squibs. An honor, of course, but we are in business together and hence it's only seemly.” Lifting his chest, nose, and tail, the cat did his best to mimic the confidently regal bearing of Bast and all the snootiness of the most hidebound of the Alexandrian librarians (all while echoing the highfalutin tones of dusty books.) Looking at Sandy as the train pulled in, he darted forward to brush against the man's hand. “Come back safely, my friend.”

CorSec Plaza was at least as intriguing as the sections they’d seen from the train, though less pleasing to the eye. A narrow thread loomed in Nick’s peripheral vision as they walked - the enormous, omnipresent space elevator. Being so dwarfed by the structure had proven unnerving - and yet the ride had been exhilarating despite its smoothness. He returned his attention to their surroundings. Another Selonian. “I am reminded of Ocho,” he remarked - like Meritari, making small talk. Halfway through, it occurred to him that moving his mouth might avoid awkward questions, so he did.

Small talk might be a good cover for covert communication...Oh! Amanda isn't here, I can try - Aloud, he asked, “Would you describe the ship, Maghrl? I doubt I'd recognize it at a glance.”

“Testing Mag, hi Mag...Obviously we should learn your oar-uh, bash/native script, but I don't have it down/understood yet - Meri really, really doesn't. If needed/best/helpful to keep cover, would you mind me connecting to you - me, her if comfortable - so you can provide translations fast/real-time?”

[Holy Lykos]

Frozen Rain

"Yeah. Still get nauseous from the scent of meat. Should pass by end of the month." Sterling backed up Willow's cover, though didn't quite get the obfuscation of truth. Still, nuggets of truth within a lie helped give it substance.

But beyond that he didn't have much else to add. As usual Willow covered for the both of them. Not that He was resentful of any of it. Sterling still was absolutely dismally bad at being social. Much better than previous but this odd situation wasn't helping. It took all he had to stop himself from bolting across the field to hide in the sturdiest bombed-out structure he could find. His anxious tics were starting to show even, digging at the ground as he sat and bits of trembling in his limbs. Things Willow would be well aware of and notice rapidly.

"Uh, me and Willow are both from the same place, by the by. Idyllic little small town in the middle of nowhere. Type of place where everyone knows everyone." He assumed that would be a decent enough description to avoid more prodding, but he and Willow should be clever enough to craft a coherent story together.

---

Kuati Dreams

"Yes, yes, Meri. Either there or elsewhere. Corsec orbital impound, up there." The Squib pointed up, clawed finger aimed up at the clouds breaking around the Space Elevator. "Like city, but floating above sky. Corsec keeps spaceworthy impounds where easiest to kick out when claim. Biiiig big hangar."

Maghrl kept them moving as he spoke, avoiding clumps of security and leading them through two more checkpoints after the one at the station. Not a person questioned them beyond the normal bored questions, and each time the Squib's lightsaber managed to disappear only to be back at his hip beyond the gate and detectors. No one even batted an eye at the quadrupedal feline riding along on the Squib's shoulders- just to ensure that Nick didn't get stepped on by accident- and chatting back. There was usually a weirder alien in line with them at any time.

The courtyard passed quickly, and the three soon made their way through the front doors(which happily wooshed out of the way once the Squib approached them, as automated as every door they had passed) of the monolithic Corsec building."Squib ship... Blocky. Shape like fish with tail rotate ninety degree to lay on side. Big Cargoship, somewhere near 30 meters, squib thinks? Beenwhile since look at specs. Wraith-Class. Not been painted in whiletime, so bare durasteel grey."

The interior was about as brutalist and bland as the exterior. The walls were painted gray with splashes of color from paintings and holo-displays and self-service kiosks. A haven of bureaucracy in a militarized security headquarters. Not a very comfortable place to be waiting, with armed CorSec officers watching from the corners of rooms or occasionally escorting complainers out roughly, and the utter lack of lobby sound save the mumbling of hundreds as they shuffled forward in their lines.

Dozens upon dozens of service desks, partitioned from each other and the general public by reinforced metal and glass with only a retractable drawer and a speaker system as contact, lined the lobby of CorSec HQ. Luckily, it was exclusively manned by protocol droids and efficient enough a constant stream of people came in and out. Maghrl lead them to the line marked as Claims(He told them as much, verbally) and waited, toying with his IDchip.

He took the opportunity to talk with Nick nonverbally, confirming he'd be happy to help, though he wasn't used to telepathic communication and hadn't ever studied it, he could convey ideas and emotions well enough for Nick to act as an interpreter and push it on to Meritari. Faster than speech and would help them learn moment to moment. As if he hadn't spoken with Nick at all, the Squib piped up to help pass time. "Once squib know bribeticket price and ship-spot, should find Belas easy 'nuff. Might be timewise to show 'round city before claim Squibship."

[Northwest Slobovia]

Kuati Dreams
Coronet City

Away from the market's hubbub, Amanda could make out Sandy's worried voice in her earring speaker. "Amanda? Dear? Amanda?"

Amanda ducked into a corner before answering quietly. "I'm here, Sandy."

"That sounded like a firefight. Are you all right?"

She slumped against one of the corner's walls. That was enough excitement for the day. "Yes, I'm fine. Maghrl's summary really captured the culture here: most people are armed. A bidding war got out of hand. Somebody pulled a gun. I wasn't involved, except to stun the guilty party.

"I think I did OK on the money side, but without an idea of what things cost, it's hard to tell. How's your first day on the job?"

Sandy started with a laugh. "First day? This is the same job as back home!" He collected his thoughts before continuing. "The fine wine market here is just like--" he stopped himself from mentioning Galli "--just like home: they talk snooty nonsense, but they're convivial about it. Our vintages are... unlike anything they have here, and vice versa, so I have plenty of new stock for home. I sold -- let me think -- a half-dozen cases and a few loose bottles, but I uh... bartered for some local wines that they claimed were steady sellers on Kuat. Some of that is lower on the, um, pretension scale than what I sold, so I have nearly as much stock as when--"

Amanda broke in, realizing she was starting to shiver. "Just a second, dear." Her boot heels clicked rapidly for a little while before her voice came through faintly over the speaker. "Whiskey." After a long pause, her voice became louder. "Local whiskey is very spicy." Several silent seconds passed. "I have the shakes, Sandy. I can barely hold my glass."

"Amanda! Where are you?? I'll join you."

"No need, really. I'll be fine. Just let me relax a bit. I'm not a trained fighter like you are. I'll be fine in a drink or two." Plutarch echoed, "I'll be fine", adding a whistle and a phrase from one of Sandy's spells.

Sandy started to ask if she was sure, but she persisted saying so, so he tried to pick up from where he left off. "They pointed me towards a..." Amanda could hear Sandy's verbal shrug as he gave up searching for the right word. "...a holo emporium. I now have a -- I guess you'd call it -- a 'holophile's' projector, which is compatible with most memory standards -- I made him demonstrate that -- and several power standards. The holocam's memory is -- He was able to read some information with specialized equipment, but it's not like anything here. He gave me, um, technical suggestions for Maghrl for trying to read it.

"I stocked up on things to watch, too. Our situation is... common enough for merchants, so I bought several big collections. Three kinds of ball games -- Corellian netball is like basketball -- some big game hunting -- it says something about a technically sophisticated culture that hunting still fascinates them -- three recent movies, a um, holo-TV series, two different partisan political analyses of the last Council season, and a series of short holos of contemporary and historical local art. But nothing current."

Amanda thought that through for a moment. "So you'd like me to find a news-stand."

"If you could. And a place for dinner. I found a short-term warehouse, and parked my cart there... and the holos and player." He gave her its name and location. "They're expecting you, and your ID should open our storage area.

"But I'm already on my way down... on an elevator. There's building nearby, under the monorail line. One corner looks different than the rest of the building. I want to take a look."

[Monfrox]

Frozen Rain

Corporal Heartling stared at Willow a little. Mustard people? What was he on about?

"I think that food poisoning may have gotten to your brain a little." She chuckled. "But things are...well...what you see is what you get. It's day by day, but with Patton's boys not far off, we'll hopefully be able to start pushing the Krauts back. But it's odd that you to know the Lieutenant..."

Heartling dodged the question of her origin entirely as she focused on the two ponies.

"She doesn't talk about a lot of people...but you two fit a bill." She pointed a finger at Willow. "You, I can tell. She always talked about a guy like you. Black hair that wasn't in regulation. Bright blue eyes. Kinda glum, but didn't shy away from a smile. With as much she talked about you, you must be her best friend. Or maybe she thinks of you a bit differently." She gave a sly smile without explaining before looking at Sterling. "And you. Well she didn't mention a lot about you beyond a little dorky and shy but always said that wherever you went, he," she motioned back to Willow. "followed. Like you two were joined at the hip. Two peas in a pod. A real dynamic duo. Course that was after she met him when you came in."

The medic looked down at Willow's can held in his hands...hands...actual hands, that was. Actual human hands with thumbs and finger nails and not hoofs. In the span of a blink of an eye, he and Sterling were ponies no longer, but human. Bipedal walking humans. And yet it was like they were human all along to Heartling, who looked up at him a bit worriedly.

"You know we do have some rations that don't have meat. I can go grab a few, no problem. It'd be better than wasting the meat out of the can." She didn't seem upset, but only concerned.

[Giovenith]

Neither Sterling nor Willow had ever been socialites in Ponyville, which was largely in part why the two of them had become friends in the first place. Still, their respective asocialness had their own flavors: while Willow could bite back at the rest of the world if needed, Sterling had always taken the passive route. Bitchy Napoleon and Gentle Giant. As such, it didn't take much for Willow to catch on that this was quickly becoming too much for his bookish friend. Sterling was meant to read about wars, not fight in them.

There wasn't much he could say specifically with Heartling here, but Willow did read across to set a hoof on his friend's and smile. "Our teacher would never send us on an assignment she didn't know we could handle," he said, calmly. "We'll show the world what she taught us, and write a letter telling her what we learned about... camaraderie." Here he winked. 'Friendship' may have been a little too civvie a word. Regardless, if there was thing he knew, it was that Sterling was true to the Princess, and time had taught them that those who were always found a way. In Ponyville, and beyond.

Willow shifted his attention back to Heartling as she once again spoke of Brit. He'd hoped it would be more info on how to find her, but it was just reflections of what she had apparently said about them (when or how he didn't know, given they'd just been sucked into this place less than an hour ago). His expression darkened a bit when the soldier remarked that Brit apparently thought of him differently than initially seemed. Different how? The slight teasing smile caused him to suspect it must have been some mocking perception - perhaps Brit found him secretly obnoxious?

Willow looked back at Sterling and swallowed back the rising anxiety. No. He'd promised. He was going to be strong, because he was the one who could be right now. No more feeling sorry for his self.

With newfound confidence, he turned back to business - and quickly lost confidence again. Not to low self-esteem this time, but first to confusion, and then a slowly escalating sense of horror.

Willow dropped the can (which luckily landed on its bottom and didn't spill) as the pale shapes in front of him tensed up and began to tremble. They slowly turned, to what took him a moment to realize was at his command, which caused them yank and flail about as Willow tried to somehow toss them away in growing panic. They stayed attached, and instinctively, they began to clutch at him all over as he discovered they weren't the only things that changed.

Had this gone on a split second longer, Willow might have ruined the mission right there as he got them sent to the psych ward for suddenly collapsing into a contorting, flailing pile while screaming at the top of his lungs for about five hours straight demanding to know where the fuck his legs had gone and why his face wasn't fuzzy. That would have been charming. But instead, he was seized by memories of his trip to the past: Rache had adapted quickly. His friends had adapted quickly. He had to too.

"Sorry," Willow eeked out in a strained calm voice. "Just a... nauesousfitIhavetousethebathroom."

Without getting too good a look at Sterling yet, the former pegasus grabbed his friend's... hand, and lead them stumbling (literally stumbling, being bipedal was like walking on stilts) round the nearest wall.

[Holy Lykos]

Frozen Rain

Sterling, as it were, handled the transformation better than Willow. In the split-second between Willow's first notice of the change and pulling the former-unicorn along, all Sterling had to say was, "Oh, this is new!"

Though, Sterling realized the moment after Willow pulled him around the corner they would likely need to go a bit further to get out of the way of Heartling for now. Sterling slipped around, still holding onto the pegasi's hand to pull him a bit farther, threading around the building and past the next one until they were a street over from Heartling. A glance around, and Sterling hadn't spied any onlookers, so the former pony released his friend's hand.

"Willow you doing okay?" He asked, looking over his friend's new form to see if anything had gone wrong. Looked correct enough for a human so...

"Anyway, take some deep breaths. We might just be adapting to whatever the laws of this area are. Pushed into forms that make sense for locals, you know? This is likely temporary." Completely baseless, but Sterling seemed confident enough in saying that, both hands holding onto the other pony's shoulders.

Though, it took until then for Sterling to notice that he was almost heads and shoulders taller than Willow as a human, even more than normal relatively. The former Unicorn's relative size hadn't changed much at all in fact, he was still rather round compared to the stick-like thin of his friend. Sterling glanced over his hands seeing his freckled pale skin and the wisps of pale blond hair at the edge of his vision. His glasses were about the same as always, at least.

"Whoa, this is weird actually." Just a bit of nervousness to his voice, he hadn't ever been human before after all.

---

Kuati Dreams

Luckily for the group, The Meditation of Worlds- certainly more poetic in Maghrl's own language, or not, Maghrl was no poet- was easy to locate. It hadn't been impounded long. The boxy Wraith-class was in fact still on site here at the HQ. Aside from that convenience, the impound fee had only been about 240 credits to get the sublight and hyperspace inhibitors removed. The squib forked over the little amount of credits he had on his person and rushed his feline and kemetian friends over to the impound lot in front of the building with a Corellian bureaucrat in tow.

Workers cycled the parking stack the squib's ship had been parked on, a great contraption of unseen gears and conveyors that allowed multiple ships to 'share' a parking space. Such a structure ultimately saved time and space, as whichever person needed their ship would just rotate the stack until theirs was able to take off. The Meditation, luckily, was only two ships deep in the cycle.

The Wraith-class was a sizable, boxy cargo ship shaped like a Y, with a gun turret at the top and swivel blasters at the fore. The barrels of the front guns were about as large as a person, which was pretty intimidating with the main passenger loading ramp at the front. Maghrl ushered them all inside, directing the Corellian tag-along to get to work removing the inhibitors. He seemed in just as much of a rush to get back to his desk job.

Maghrl happily lead the rest on a short tour, to get them familiar with the layout. It was lateral, with an elevator along the core of the ship with that usually lead into the hallway running along the interior.

The bottom two floors were mostly taken up by a two story cargo bay, fed into by a cargo elevator and on the far end of the ship and sticking out beyond the passenger section's overhang. The second floor contained a forward mechanics bay for the shields and the weapons room for the forward facing guns as well, with a series of monitors that allowed a 180 degree view of everything in front of the ship. Better than exposing the firing bay to easy attacks, certainly. The second floor included access to the rear of the ship, where the engines and hyperdrive were located.

The ship's interior was about as blocky as the exterior. Comfortable all said, but the ship had four bedrooms (One filled with random junk that was obviously the Squib's) all built for one person each and with pretty sparse accommodations. The third was reserved for passenger compartments, and forth contained the kitchen and living space, with a ladder to the gun turret positioned above the center of the ship. A luxury ship this was not.


At the end of the tour, the squib would phone the Belas to inquire about their remaining plans on the planet. They would be able to meet up with them just about anywhere: many of the skyscrapers had landing pads near the upper reaches, and the Squib still had his platform paid for across the bay in the original tower.

"Just tell Mag where to pick up Bela-friends. Ship all shipshape, just need cargo and crew. The latter are you, yes yes."

[Northwest Slobovia]

Kuati Dreams
Coronet City


Sandy practically gushed into his mic. "I'm no archaeologist, but it looks like this building was built around an existing tower... a significant fortification. The walls are very thick -- a yard or more -- where they've cut doors or windows through. There's, uh, only partial upper stories... I think there may have been heavy weapons... or fighting positions on... or uh near... the top."

A few minutes later, he added another observation. "Lots of damage to lower stories... also on other buildings I can see, even the Spire. Maghrl, was there a battle here, a generation or two ago?"

“Been few, yes. Fighting against Empire, against Vong, against Republic. Corellians fight! Fight fight fight. Too much for Squib-liking. Biggest would be battles against Empire. Vong fight skirmishes and so was Republics. Empire fight for keeps, made Corellia a Fortress World. Rebels broke the fort eventually, Corellians helped quite a bit. Big point of pride they helped smashed one of the empire’s toughest holds in the core. Corellian People threw out Imperial Diktat with little outside help. Coronet hurt bad after rebellion”

Amanda started to ask about the history, but broke off when somebody spoke to her; she changed the subject: "That was weird. I got an attaboy for my marksmanship from a complete stranger."

---

Sandy was in historian heaven, er, Elysium. "The tower is 35 stories tall, and it was built on an older, larger fortification... maybe a citadel or keep... something of the sort. This city is a tel, they just kept building on older structures! Looks like there's a general change in architectural styles around the same height... um, maybe migration... conquest... ummm, a golden age, perhaps... technical or artistic advancement... It’s unfortunate I can’t understand what the city is telling me."

---

Amanda's tone almost matched Sandy's. "I found just the place for dinner, Sandy! There's an observation deck on the Spire called the 100 Kilometer Club. There's twenty restaurants, with prices from tourist class to the style to which we should be accustomed. I got us reservations at one of the best, something like a Michelin three-star, a Corellian Sector fusion place. There's also a museum up there, which seems more your speed. But the view must be amazing!"

---

"The lower parts of the holomaps are just blank, and then they cut off. That is, high above the ground. That's where I am now, where the map stops. This set of floors seems to be a middle class area. The clothing isn't a flamboyant as mine. I sometimes draw stares, but it-- Oh boy, somebody in uniform is coming!"

Sandy's conversation with the uniformed woman was mostly audible, if muffled. His voice came back, nervous and chatty. "She was a cop... wanted to know if I was lost. She had a lot of questions, but once she checked my ID -- thanks, Maghrl -- and found out that I was somebody of substance, she politely changed the topic.

"Dear? The guy you shot is under arrest. Something about an investigation in to... in to some sort of price-fixing. They have holos, she said -- the venue does, that is -- and made them public. Whatever Corellia has for social media, you're famous on it. Expect more attention."

---

Sandy's message was faint, and in places his voice was distorted. "I think found the bottom of public access. This seems to be the lowest of working class... people who work... minimum wage jobs, if the concept applies. I can see a destruction layer from this window... doubtless very old. Whoever rebuilt the city seems to have tried to hide it, but it's clear if you know what you're looking for."

A few minutes later came a cheerful addendum: "I found a public works crew. Now I look like one of them." Then, a few seconds later, "...and a service elevator. Going down!"

---

"...get any further ... above... --aybe skyscraper height. ... ground lev--"

Amanda came on, concern creeping in around the edges of her voice. "I can't understand you, dear."

"...brick, perhaps with a fr-- must have ... " A long hissing sound. "...electrobinocul--"

Amanda spoke firmly and slowly, lengthening her words. "I can't hear you, Sandy."

After a moment, the fragments of Sandy's voice stopped, resuming a minute or so later. "Is this any better? OK. I couldn't reach ground level. I was maybe... hundreds of feet above it. It's dark down there, little sunlight, not much artificial light that I could see. I had to double back a long way up the building to buy a set of electrobinoculars that could record video... maybe holos too, I'm not sure.

"What's at ground level is in bad shape, but near one of the supports for the Spire -- it must be a back-home city block wide -- there's some interesting buildings. It looks like the support went through one. I think it’s brick: red brick with glazed brick stripes... black, white, and yellow stripes. I could see a little glint off of them. Definitely ornamental. There might have been a frieze once, too, but it's hard to tell."

"The next two buildings seem to be stone -- pseudoisodomic ashlar construction -- and complete... nearly unaltered. Somebody built them to last. Given what contemporary local civil engineering is capable of, those may date to the founding of the city. If we're still here after dark, I'd like to get a closer look at them."

Amanda's breath caught, and while she tried to strike a warning tone, her previous concern had become worry. "I wouldn't recommend that, Sandy. I know what you're thinking and he's immortal, not invulnerable. Contemporary local weapons technology will turn him into tournedos de cheval." The Babelfish metaphrased the last as "Pegasus steaks".

"I found a news-stand, and I have a selection of holo digests of news and culture. I got you some sports scores, too. Get cleaned up, would you? It's almost dinner time."

[Giovenith]

"No, it's not okay!" Willow balled his fists — which he could do now —and shouted towards the grey sky. It was painfully ironic how less than a minute ago it had been him reassuring Sterling that everything would fine, but the former pegasus' bearings on the situation had flipped like a switch along with his body. "Look at me! Look at you!" He felt all over himself in a rush, spinning in panicked circles as he futilely tried to reach his own back to touch the spot where his wings had once been, his mind struggling with the paradox of failing to connect its memories of the limbs with any physical sensation. Grounded! It was hard to explain how ugly a feeling that could be for a flier. You went from being able to careen in infinite directions at a whim's notice to being a troddling little thing chained down to an endless slab of muck and rock. At least as a quadruped he could run, unlike these two long, cruel jokes that just-

Too fast, and Willow went stumbling onto his knees, scraping his palms against the icy ground. They luckily didn't bleed, but the intense pain and cold caused him to quickly retreat them beneath his armpits — he'd never imagined the things were so sensitive. The stinging served as a slap to the face though, and he finally made an effort to calm down.

Okay. One leg at a time, he slowly got back onto his feet and felt out a general technique to stay there without tumbling down like the Tower of Babel. Carefully, he made his way toward the remains of a detached window frame propped against some rubbish, leaning down to peer into the jagged bit of glass left over in the corner. He resisted the urge to jerk back and slowly blinked blue eyes framed by a now much paler, flatter face to confirm what he saw. It had always been hard for Willow to guess how humans' looks "translated" to ponies', though this coupled with the little misadventure in Equestrian past had started to give him a good idea. He was still an incredibly soft-featured individual, the shapes reflecting at him more reminiscent of say, Giovenith's type than Marcus' (Oh, great! Even as a goddamn primate he could expect to be told he looked like a girl by jackasses.) His hair was the same color and general style, but it had morphed slightly to accommodate his new follicle placement and the texture felt different, softer. He rolled up his sleeve and sneered slightly to find that he would still never be making any team captain lists, flexing his wrist to observe the visible bony joint beneath.

He made his way back to Sterling. "How could-" Willow blinked at finding where he intended to meet Sterling's eyes he instead found upper chest. He craned his neck more at his friend's face, frowned at the height difference (still babyfaced, still skinny, and still short... nice to know whatever cruel force out there that did this was staying true to his suckage), then took a wide step backwards to better angle his gaze. "-How could that happen? Where exactly is this place?"

Maybe there was some kind of bigger force behind all this, one responsible for the Hearth's trip and this one and fond of swapping species for the occasion? Willow would have to investigate later. But until then, they had no choice but to get used to it until they found Brit.

"Whatever," he stiffened his arms to his side with a grumble. "No changing it now. Let's get back to Heartling so we don't raise suspicion. Remember: food poisoning." He started off back towards the Corporal, consciously keeping heel-toe-heel-toe in mind, while cringing at his own hands and the way they felt his face. "Sweet Celestia, I'm hideous..."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

---

Throughout the tour of Maghrl's spaceship, Meritari attempted to remain focused, doing her utmost to pay attention to the Squib's words and explanations without being overwhelmed by the awe that such a machine inspired in her. After all, it wasn't every day that you saw something so mind-bogglingly large, only to find out that it wasn't a building, but something intended for transport. Of course, the sheer sizes of the buildings all around the city had somewhat gotten her accustomed and a little bit prepared for the sight of the spaceship, but still, culture shock was something inevitable; she was fairly sure that she must have stood outside with her mouth agape for several seconds, which made her feel terribly embarrassed afterwards. She could only thank Maghrl and Nick silently for not bringing it up at any point during the tour.

Still, she was quite grateful for the tour and the opportunity to explore the ship before moving on. The turrets were too strange and new for her to intimidate her in the same way as everyone else, so she went into the ship without fear and eager to learn. And thanks to Maghrl, she did learn, even if there were occasions where she didn't entirely follow what the Squib was talking about. In particular, she learned about several basic devices once the alien's tour reached the third and fourth floors, which were the location of the ship's living quarters and other areas that corresponded to things one would find in any regular households, albeit with obvious differences due to the more advanced tech level.

Of course, during the tour, she was also listening to all the radio chatter going on between the Belas (and occasionally Mag). Interestingly enough, Sandy's talk about fortifications and ancient battles had turned out to be one of the more intelligible things she had heard in a decent while, as even though her life had been peaceful, she had lived in a time where besieged fortresses and clashing armies were not uncommon nor unheard of. She paid special attention when Maghrl spoke, as he mentioned the Vong war, the one that had supposedly wiped out her alleged world of origin, Coruscant. Unfortunately, little more was said about it.

Inbetween more radio chatter and her own amusement at the thought of Amanda suddenly being famous in the midst of a foreign land, Meritari caught ear of the name and location of the place where the woman had made reservations for the group, and so, standing next to Maghrl and Nick, she opted to bring it up. "So, we are heading towards this '100 Kilometer Club', right? I doubt either Nick or myself are qualified to use this vehicle, so we'll continue to rely on you, Maghrl." She said with a soft smile on her face.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Kuati Dreams
The Meditation of Worlds, CorSec Impound Landing Pad, Coronet City, Corellia

Amanda's voice came through on the communicator. "Maghrl, we have dinner reservations at Ji rikknit in the 100 Kilometer Club. I'm on my way up there now. Sandy should be here soon too." That was followed by Plutarch whistling a dead-on imitation of an R2 unit.

“Good choice, Belas!” Maghrl responded, leaning back in the human-scale pilots chair in the cockpit with Nick and Meri in their own seats. The squib had switched the ship itself to their private frequency, so the Bela’s voice echoed out of the ship’s communicator. “Maghrl and others arrive short-like.”

Maghrl flipped the ship’s comms to the CorSec Impound’s frequency, “Meditation of Worlds request launch clearance. Need landing in Spire bays, yup yup.”

A crisp female voice replied, "Meditation of Worlds, you are cleared for launch and transfer to Spire level 100, landing bay 94. Maintain 10k distance from Spire until at altitude."

Maghrl grumbled an acknowledgement, but knew better than to give them a hard time about where to go: colliding with the Spire would be a disaster, and CorSec would cheerfully blow the Meditation to bits before letting that happen. He touched the Meditation's controls, bringing the repulsors online, letting the ship float off the pad. He then rotated the engines downward and began a rapid graceful climb.

Maghrl's deft touch gave the impression the ship was rising straight up, where in reality he was slowly rotating the engines forward to gain forward speed as they climbed. Coronet City shrank below the ship, and the sky slowly grew darker as the atmosphere thinned around them. The Spire seemed all but unchanged, still an immense tower disappearing to a slender shining thread far above.

“Amazing…” Meritari whispered as she looked through the bridge’s windows from her seat, observing as the horizon before her changed radically in the span of several seconds, the sheer awe that the sight inspired in her keeping her glued to her seat, preventing her from leaning forward or rushing off to stand by the window like an overly excited child. Back in Kemet, she would have never imagined she would bear witness to landscapes (spacescapes, perhaps) such as these, and she considered herself very fortunate to have the chance to do so.

She would have to get used to it. After all, she had the feeling they would be doing this for a while.

[OOC: Maghrl appears courtesy of Squirrels on a Keyboard Productions, and Meri appears courtesy of the sun god Ra.]

[Monfrox]

Frozen Rain

Corporal Heartling didn't pay too much mind to Willow and Sterling until they came back. The food poisoning bit must've been real, then. She had taken their respective cans and headed off back to the CP in search of some different rations that were easier on the stomach. That left them alone, sitting around a pile of wood. It was chilly outside, but the silver-haired First Sergeant made a return appearance with an armful of branches that she tossed on top of the pile with all the grace of dropping a piano. She took out a piece of flint chained to a steel rectangle and struck them on each other, causing sparks to fly and light the wood on fire. Slowly, the fire grew, and Gutierrez held her hands out to it. Whereas Willow and Sterling had full glove liners, her's were notably fingerless while in the same green as they were.

Heartling returned, holding the cans but also carrying a few yellow squares in her hands. She set the can of spaghetti in front of her spot and gave the Eggs and Ham can to Gutierrez. To Willow and Sterling, she each handed two thin and square yellow boxes. On the front read the words "Calorie Mate".

"These should help you. They're easy on the stomach, but a bit dry. Make sure you put your canteens in front of you so the ice in them melts and you don't lower your core body temperature by drinking such cold water. I picked out the good ones for you two. Those are chocolate flavored." She smiled warmly at them, holding her hands out that also had fingerless gloves. The difference between her's and the First Sergeant's were that there was clear black and dark red splotches all over them. She looked back to the two friends and her smile faded to a neutral expression. "So...what do you know about our Lieutenant?"

[Northwest Slobovia]

Kuati Dreams
100 Kilometer Club, The Spire, Corellia

Amanda turned to see her husband finally approaching her. "Did you have fun, Indiana Bela?"

Sandy's grin could have lit up an entire city. "Oh, yes! I have the idol, the Ark, and the Grail, but more importantly, I have a lot of holos and pictures to look through. I picked up a holo series on Corellian history on the way back up. I watched part of it in the store; it seems a bit... sanitized. I want to-- I think it's going to gloss over a lot of interesting but inconvenient history. There's too much evidence of... conflict and, uh, other sudden social change for it to all favor the ruling powers, and if they have..." He waved a hand in circles, thinking of a word. "...undue influence over publishers, it may have been 'overlooked.'"

Looking around failed to reveal any trace of a squib, a telepathic cat, or a woman from deep antiquity. "Where are we supposed to meet the others? I think I missed the radio call when I was buying the history holo."

"Landing bay 94, wherever that is. I was looking for a holomap when I saw you." The two of the found a map without much trouble; the landing bays were a few floors up. When they arrived there, the reason became apparent: to not block the Club's view of the planet below. Immense bay windows with transparent floors and ceilings lined the outer wall of the lounge between bays 90-94 and 95-99, giving excellent views in almost all directions.

Amanda stood awed as she gazed out at the curved horizon, and traced the Spire down to where it seemed to end on the curve of a broad bay below. The city itself was reduced to a greyish patch clinging to to the base of the Spire. “Isn’t this amazing, Sandy? If you’d asked me five years ago if I’d ever get into space, I would have told you there was no chance of it. But now…” She returned to goggling at the view. “Even for living where wonders are routine, this is eye opening.”

Sandy stared with wide-eyed wonder at the terrain far beneath him. “Back home, we’d be part of a, uh, tiny elite, but this is commonplace here.” He rubbed the back of his neck in silence for a while, then, “I wonder what this does for local trade?” He started to look at ships coming and going in higher orbits.

Amanda’s eyes searched below her. “Do you think we’ll see Maghrl’s ship?”

Sandy nodded and pointed to a brilliant spark rising in the distance. "There! It might be another ship, but I don't... think it would look like it's coming straight at us if was landing somewhere else on the Spire." The spark resolved into a tiny box, and then a boxy ship, clearly heading off to their left. They went to meet it.

Landing Bay 94

Amanda drummed her fingers on the wall next to the blast door as she waited for the all-clear saying that the landing bay forcefield was up and the bay was pressurized. The door snapped open; she blinked, then slowly walked to the Meditation; it hissed steam as it finished settling on its landing legs, and the engines pinged as they cooled. Maghrl's freighter was no bigger than her 'new' flying ship, but it travelled between the stars. She walked around it, taking in every detail.

Sandy stood with crossed arms as he waited for its pilot and passengers. Amanda happened to notice him. "Sandy! Isn't this amazing!" She stopped and gave him a baffled look, gesturing at the cargo ship. "Not the slightest curiosity from the great explorer?"

A ramp slid down from the bottom of the hull, followed shortly by three familiar people. Sandy nodded in Maghrl's direction. "He's got all the answers I need." He pointed at the nearer engine nacelle. "No idea how it works, and an explanation would go over my head.

"I'll ask about it later. Now, I'm more interested in what it does: how much cargo it carries, how long it takes between planets, how it compares to other ships." He pointed at the bow turret, looking at Maghrl. "It's armed, isn't it? Why? Piracy? Or piratical governments? Either answer is more interesting than how the, um, weapons work." He switched to a conversational expression, one palm up. "Does it serve social roles in addition to transportation? Is owning a ship a status symbol? Does it symbolize something the way cars symbolize freedom to--"

"I'm sorry I asked." Amanda ended that with an eyeroll, then checked the time on her phone. She hurried over to the others. "We have reservations in a little while, so we should get moving. We can sightsee after dinner."

Sandy was unable to resist temptation as he joined the group. "You came in that? You're braver than I thought!"

The purple squib snickered, rather bemused by the eagerness of the magic scholar. “Mag can tell more later, yes yes, ‘specially about specs of Meditation. But piracy problem, yes. Some areas of galaxy, ‘specially far from Core unsafe. Near Hutt Space risk Cartel raiders, Wildspace full of pirates and outlaws. Pirates can range from single small scale like Void Wings, to cartel- galaxy-wide- groups like Black Sun, Zann Consortium,. Some privateers from Rebel Alliance time who refuse joining with new governments. List go on for quite a time.” The squib shrugged and let out a sigh, “Not much risk here in core worlds unless war breaks between Coalition and Republic.”

“Owning ship moderate status symbol, yes yes. Allow travel at whim off-world, yes. Even more freedom than repulsor-vehicles, yes yes!” He grinned wide, “Jedi tend get own ships, from order or own work. Helps us with our jobs keeping peace and mediating. Should see ships Skywalkers own! The family have fleet among themselves alone!”

[OOC: Maghrl appears courtesy of Squirrels on a Keyboard Productions.]

[Giovenith]

Willow dawdled in place for a bit trying to figure out how to sit. He'd seen his human friends take a number of positions, but he was paranoid about... he didn't know, snapping a joint or something. He settled for tucking his legs beneath himself, as it was closest to equine sitting, though he struggled a bit with how to position his booted toes.

He pondered a bit on how to take the box from Heartling. Would the fingers work on their own, or would he have to practice? Not wanting to take the risk, Willow smiled and grabbed the box with his wrists under pretense of his hands being cold. "Thanks," he said, offering some to Sterling. "Sorry for acting so weird, it's just... been a long few days."

If so far was any indication, there were even more long days to come.

What did they know about Brit? Willow considered the most obvious facts, that she liked boomsticks and came from a kingdom called Uh-Mare-Ick-Uh (which he assumed to be some kind of Amazonian society), but quickly figured that those would be givens among these people. Sterling certainly couldn't be expected to fill in the blanks though, so the former pony moved in to compensate. He intended to do as Rache had done—tell the truth, but not necessarily the whole truth.

"Well, we've known each other for about four years now, though it doesn't even feel that long ago," Willow said, diving into the box to snack on some squares. They weren't bad. "I was with my group on an impromptu mission to kill this bigass animal that had invaded our space, and she just kind of showed up and we all banded together to defeat it. We did it, and she and I helped cook some pasta for everyone to celebrate. We got to know each other over both being a bit homesick at the time, and me being sad that this guy got deployed somewhere else for a time..." He gestured to Sterling. "After that, we just kind of started hanging out during downtime and went on a few missions together with other friends. There was this one fucked up little abandoned town with a bunch of religious fanatics in it, to name one. I know she likes to read books about plucky soldiers, and she always gets a little too excited when it's time to fuck up the enemy."

He exchanged a brief look with Sterling, wincing the whole while as he struggled to comprehend his friend's new simian form. The two hadn't had a lot of time to properly catch up so Willow assumed the librarian must have been rather confused. He needed to reassure he wasn't completely pulling things out of his ass—it would be easier for Sterling to keep up with the lies if he knew they were coming from a place of truth instead of pure imagination.

"She could, can, get pretty sad sometimes," Willow continued, pulling his legs out and carefully arranging them into the criss-cross fashion he often saw humans use. Despite looking so complicated it was surprisingly comfortable, much better for blood flow. "I know, I can be too. The last time we met though she was feeling really down, and I wasn't the nicest to her... I was going through some stuff myself, but that's not an excuse." He frowned. "We were chosen to take the message to her because I knew her best, but I also wanted to apologize to her. Do you know when the rescue is going to happen? Surely we can help."

How they were going to manage that looking like this, Willow still wasn't sure.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Kuati Dreams,
Ji rikknit, Corellia Sector Fusion Restaurant, The Spire, Corellia

A short turbolift ride down followed by a few minutes' walk brought the group to the entrance to Ji rikknit. The restaurant was bright and open, with light shining down from recessed lamps scattered among a ceiling covered with tapestries and other patterned textiles. The tables -- no booths -- were made of a variety of light woods, and nearly all were full of well-dressed people, humans and xenos alike. It seemed to Amanda to be a place to see and be seen.

Her delighted smile fell as she caught sight of the servers: all droids. "Ugh. I'd forgotten I've been supporting a slave state all day." She sighed. "How do people who fight so hard for their own freedom justify keeping slaves?"

Sandy broke into a crooked grin. "You need to remember the Alamo."

Amanda grimaced. "I'd rather remember Sherman's March." But she went to the host's stand, where a human mâitre d' stood in formal clothing, navy blue with forest green contrast and discreet gold trim. "We have reservations for White."

He glanced down at a display set into the stand. "Ah, yes, party of five." Plutarch warbled and recited a fragment of the Illiad, causing the mâitre d' to look back up. "Or is that six?"

"Ah, no, he 's just an exotic pet." She turned to Sandy. "Could you take..."

The host spoke with exaggerated regret. "Unfortunately, we no longer permit animals inside. There have been some regretful misunderstandings." The Babelfish cut through his euphemism to fill in what he'd dodged: misunderstandings about who or what was on the menu, in both directions, patron and pet. "Will you need a cage? We have several force domes, of a variety of sizes."

Sandy held out a hand for Plutarch to fly to, while looking around. "A perch will do fine." Sandy transferred his parrot to a to the a branch of an ornamental tree near the host's stand. "Who's a good boy?"

Plutarch chirped, "I'm a good boy!" but almost immediately sang, "let us let live to make men free!". Sandy froze, but the host either didn't hear or took it as a reference to Corellia.

Sandy offered him a macadamia from a pocket. "Stay, Plutarch." Turning to the mâitre d', Sandy added, "He'll stay. He's a smart bird."

Meanwhile, Nick fished out a white-bellied, black-scaled snake and started moving his mouth. “I require the use of a… sizable cage. My snake needs to stretch out.”

The host led Nick to a side room which at first glance seemed to be whitish disks. “Please choose a force dome of suitable size.” After Nick did, the mâitre d' activated the force dome, and showed Nick how to select from a large number of options for holographic scenery for the dome.

The mâitre d' then led the group into the restaurant. As the group passed through the diners, the tone of the conversations seemed to shift, more murmuring and whispering than moments before. The sharp-eared might catch Amanda's name, and fragments of discussions about what she'd done. (The sharp-eared and nosy could hear entire conversations if they wanted to, but they might get caught at it.) The group was seated at a table by a floor-to-ceiling window along the Spire's outside. Nick and Maghrl had chairs that brought them to the right height for the table; it was a classy place used to serving alien clientele.

The view looked west, the lights of distant cities now visible beyond the dusk line. The mâitre d' handed out electronic menus; Meritari and the Belas got apparently identical ones, Maghrl's was slightly smaller, and Nick's smaller still. When Nick checked, he found that it was responsive to both claws and paws, and surprisingly easy to hold without opposable thumbs. The menus had holo displays showing what was on offer, and had a cheerful narrator which described each dish and answered questions about it.

[OOC: Nick appears courtesy of a glowing catpile.]

[Holy Lykos]

Frozen Rain

Sterling, with as little experience with Brit as he had, simply nodded in response to the important points, before adding on. "I've not been friends with her long, but she's a good person. I can say Willow's being honest about this stuff. We really need to find her before she gets herself hurt somehow."

Though, internally, Sterling was starting to freak out about this human thing about as much as Willow was. He kept a friendly smiling, if a bit worried, face on. He had to keep up appearances and try to be a rock for Willow, who was much more unhinged about this ordeal now. But the loss of his magic was just starting to hit the former unicorn. The Librarian was starting to realize just how little he could do without it, but at least he'd figured out how to hold onto things quickly. But with his arms he had neither the range nor versatility of magic! He couldn't throw shields, create light, anything. Sterling figured Willow missing his flight would be similar, though. So he kept the thoughts internal. They could talk later.

How in Tartarus did humans manage?!

"But, thank you Heartling for the food. I apologize again for our odd diets." He nodded, smiling up at her before looking down to try and figure out just how this container was opened.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Kuati Dreams
Ji rikknit, Corellian Sector Fusion Restaurant, The Spire

Nick marveled as his chair was brought/adjusted such that when he sat, his paws just fit under the table. Less convenient than sitting on the table, admittedly, but far more so than balancing on backrests, reasonably simple to use without falling - and infinitely more dignified than a bowl on the floor. I'd like one of these. Maybe over by my window - no, Alexandria's tank! The menu was also a nice surprise - a tablet would have been easy to scroll through if he'd sat on the table, but this was something he could use from a seated position.

Meritari quickly began exploring her own menu with almost childlike fascination, both at the advanced technology that was involved even in something as simple as a list of dishes and at the dishes themselves, most of them quite exotic for her standards, some of them totally unknown to her while others did seem to have some parallels with foods that she had seen and tried during her life in Kemet. One in particular caught her attention, and, unable to read the name of any of the dishes, she pressed her index finger against the picture in the menu, causing it to display a page full of characters she didn’t understand, though luckily for her this was followed by a spoken explanation, which the Babelfish was able to translate.

“The Corellian Pastitsio is a very ancient traditional recipe, thought to have been brought here by Coruscanti refugees.” The electronic menu began, with a friendly voice that almost seemed tailored to the client, though it still had an unmistakable artificial quality. “It is an elaborate pasta dish with ground bageraset meat, cooked with tomato sauce, Corellian cheese and several exotic spices imported from the Cloudland Peaks in Selonia. To accompany this hearty meal, I recommend an item from our variety of rich red grape wines.”

“That sounds wonderful!” The Kemetian said, quite pleased with the explanation given, and persuaded by it as well. “I’d like to order a Corellian Pastitsio, then, please.”

The electronic menu remained silent for several moments before speaking up once more. “The Corellian Pastitsio is a very ancient traditional recipe…” It recited once more, as if reacting solely to the name of the dish. Meritari frowned slightly, unsure of what was going on with the device.

“Er, yes… I’d like to order one, please.” The Kemetian repeated herself. This time, rather than recite the same explanation yet again, the menu remained silent for even longer than before, making Meritari feel rather uncomfortable.

“Apologies, miss. I can’t understand you.” The menu voice finally admitted in an apologetic tone. “I will call a protocol droid to assist you. Please wait a moment.” It offered; hearing this, Meritari looked to Maghrl and the Belas in mild confusion, as if requesting some aid in figuring things out.

Amanda hesitantly suggested, “A translator, I think.”

Maghrl looked up from his menu and nodded. “Yes yes, protocol droids know way-many speaktounges.”

A protocol droid appeared at the table, painted in the same blue, green, and gold livery as the human staff. "I am F-3PO, interspecies relations, and I will be your translator tonight." He -- F-3PO had a male voice, at least -- listened closely to Meri, and tried several languages in reply, but he was unable to make sense of Old Egyptian.

Sandy gave Amanda a significant look, but she shook her head. However, she did hand Sandy her phone. Sandy took a deep breath, and waved the droid over. "This device is from a world, um, far off the trade spine, with non-standard letter forms. As you see, this table shows both Aurebesh and the local alphabet."

"Yes, a simple direct replacement."

"They do, however, have some knowledge of Meritari's language." Sandy proceeded to walk F-3PO through Tinypedia's discussion of Old Egyptian, which included a number of translations of surviving Archaic hieroglyphs. Sandy was no linguist, but he was able to combine Tinypedia's terse discussions of Old Egyptian as a typical Semitic language with his (limited) knowledge of Arabic to give the droid enough vocabulary and grammar to start to understand Meri. After a few minutes talking with her, he was able to provide sensible, if simple, answers to her questions about the available dishes.

Despite the struggle leading up to the arrival of the translator droid and its learning of Old Egyptian, though, Meritari soon realized there was a much simpler way of making her order known to the droid. Picking up the electronic menu and turning it to face the droid, she pointed at the dish she had been attempting to order earlier, a gesture that the droid immediately recognized, noting her request and nodding in response. F-3PO politely waited nearby in case there was other need for it while the rest of the group placed their orders.

Maghrl ordered a meat dish prepared in a Corellian style. Specifically a dish featuring Gizka, a fowl not too unlike chicken in taste, yet much more reproductively prolific and often quick to become a pest, and Coin-Crab, a miniscule crustacean from Taris. The two were served blackened, on a bed of rice-like grains, and with mixed vegetables, but Maghrl asked the waiter for them to switch out the vegetables for extra meat if possible. He was primarily carnivorous after all.

Nick opted for the same dish, with the same alterations. It sounded mouthwatering, and as a fellow carnivore Maghrl presumably was ordering something more suited to the cat's taste. He still remembered trying an apple with Willow. Yuck!

Amanda played with her menu for a while, simply enjoying the technology, before starting to look over the abundant choices. “I found their signature dish, Sandy: Saccorian doves served on a bed of rikknit eggs, dusted with Ji rikknit and freshly crushed Vagran wild sage with a side of riced bloodroot.” She ordered that along with Vasari Brandy, entertained by the coincidence with the name of her alma mater, Vassar College.

Sandy studied the menu as though it was a newly recovered lost document, asking the menu to describe choices in great detail, and probing its ability to arrange substitutions. He eventually settled on sandleaper steak, mentioning that the hunting holo he bought described Phemian sandleapers as big game considered a challenge for even the best hunters, and they were considered worth it for their lean, tender, delicately-flavored meat. That came with Corellian greens and spiced potatoes.

When Sandy asked to taste some of the wines, the menu summoned another droid to bring them, but it was quickly overtaken by a young woman who explained that the menu wasn’t up to recognizing a connoisseur. She was happy to use the new droid as a step-and-fetch-it, spending the time it was gone recommending wines to Sandy (and anybody else interested) and schmoozing with the group. After trying what seemed like a dozen bottles, Sandy settled on a medium dry Saccorian wine. He ordered a bottle for the table, along with a small appetizer sampler, with enough for everybody to try something.

[Monfrox]

Frozen Rain

"Oh no, it's no trouble at all. After all, you boys must've been through hell to get here." Heartling replied with a smile as she took the spaghetti can and set it next to the fire. "But that does sound a lot like the Lieutenant. She was one by the books, but she always had a bit of a wild streak in her. Made some trouble for us but she always seemed to pull through. Well, until..."

Heartling looked to Gutierrez, who looked to Willow and Sterling as she worked her can opener on the ham and eggs.

"There's not going to be a rescue op. We're stretched too thin as it is, let alone the fact that Captain Meinard would never approve it. Even if she could. She's been taking Major O'Brian's orders and word a bit too literally as of late. Patrols are being kept to a minimum and our only standing order is to hold the line against any and all attacks. No rescues to be mounted for a lost Lieutenant or her patrol. Likely they're all dead or captured. Haven't heard a word of 'em since they set out."

Heartling looked downcast, but brightened up a bit.

"But you guys don't answer to Captain Meinard or Major O'Brian. And as far as they know, you aren't here right now. I don't know how confident you two signals guys are in your soldiering, but..."

"But we can give you some food and weapons and maybe a place to start if you're so inclined to help find our Ell Tee." Gutierrez finished Heartling's thought and the both of them looked at the other pair, waiting for an answer.

[Giovenith]

"What?!" Willow snapped. "You can't do that, you..."

He stopped himself. To Willow, it sounded unthinkable to just leave someone in enemy hands, to basically allow them to suffer and die when your whole job was to protect others and save lives. Did firefighters leave people to burn, or police to let homes be terrorized? But, those situations were different... they weren't in the middle of war, when time and resources were scarce and tough choices had to be made. He'd already seen how badly beaten down these people were, he had no place to judge them badly for not putting themselves at even more risk for just one person.

Willow already knew what their only option was before Heartling even said it. She sounded optimistic, mischievous even, but this was nothing to get excited about. He and Sterling weren't soldiers, they could barely control these new bodies, they had been stripped of their powers, and there were only two of them. How could they even have a hope of rescuing Brit themselves?

After a bit more thought and a sigh, he turned to Sterling. "I'm going. I won't make you come with, but you've probably read way more about sneaking and retrieval tactics than anyone I know. What do you think?"

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Ji rikknit, Corellian Sector Fusion Restaurant, The Spire

With all the orders placed, the wine steward and the droids left. Sandy followed the departing protocol droid with his eyes, running a finger along his jawline as he considered the situation. "A remarkably sophisticated machine. It picked up Old Egyptian surprisingly quickly given the scanty sources I gave it." There was a distinct pause. He shifted his gaze to Amanda before continuing in Alexandrian Greek. "And I am in the market for a Greek speaker."

Amanda replied in French, practically purring. "I think I like where this is going." (French is an excellent language for purring.) "Go on, my dearest."

Sandy stared out the window for a minute, apparently watching sunset overtake Coronet City. He turned suddenly, gesturing with his thumb and going on as though he'd seen something on the planet below, leaning in towards the group, and speaking in Classical Greek. "Suppose Meritari were to leave something valuable behind... I'm not sure what. Suppose, further, we let it be known where Maghrl's ship is berthed. Might not the restaurant send the, um... speaking machine to return the valuable object, being that he is the only one who speaks her language?"

More French purring: "And then?"

Sandy shrugged, and added in Arabic. "And then we come up with a plan, insha'Allah."

Nick, unfortunately, spoke one language fluently enough to respond, and a request to communicate discreetly would be far from discreet. We need to fix that. Pulling up alarms, he typed [tp signal, disc.] It sounded somewhat like they planned to abduct the robot. If it was sapient, it deserved a choice in the matter. If not, if it truly was no more sophisticated than a supercomputer, it was property. Very valuable property, the theft of which could completely blow their cover. But - we could trade. I think the owners of Glorious Fine Wedge Import-Export would be willing to barter for a translator droid. “Have you sold all of our cargo, Amanda? Some of them might prove unique enough to be of surprising value. Particularly for a restaurant.”

[Holy Lykos]

Maghrl switched from his use of Basic to the rather esoteric High Squibbish. A language squib refused to allow outsiders to program into protocol droids for myriad reasons, including retaining their ability to speak in private even if a translator was present. “Maghrl says we remove his restraining bolt, “A gesture with an ear towards the small, ovoid, black box magnetically fastened to the droid’s right ‘pectoral’ region. “It prevents droid from leaving Restaurant, let alone Spire. Limits programming and mental faculties to relevant to his work.”

Nick’s tail lashed from side to side. “I see. Hmph!”

Sandy gave Maghrl a puzzled look, continuing in Classical Greek (as he would unless noted). “I… would think they would want send their metal slaves to run errands. They have no way of doing that?”

A shrug. “Can switch range limiter, easy enough doing from control terminal most place-shops have in back.”

Amanda nodded. “So, they could send it out then. But Nick’s right: we shouldn’t draw too much attention to ourselves. I’d like to return one day; other than the slavery, it’s very… civilized.”

“If we-us-friends lurepull Droid-servant to lower-level hangars, we just need break-disable camera.” The squib offered. “Lower-level aren’t as high society, yup yup. Think droid just got broken-stolen-lost. If we later communicate-lie with ‘revised’ coordinate-spot, cover bases as misunderstanding?”

Sandy considered that for a few moments, then realized the odd way the conversation was playing out: Meritari might say little out of unfamiliarity with the situation and technology, but Nick… Hm...

He reached out and touched the tomcat’s foreleg. “Something on your mind, Nick?” And then he waited for the familiar touch of Nick’s thoughts.

<Yes! I'm concerned that we'd still be the main suspects, and also not positive that this Droid has the capacity for sentience even without the restraining bolt. I don't like slavery either, but the best solution might be purchasing him and *then* freeing him. If he's sent to us, we might be suspected anyway, and buying a translator for Meri would be in character. We have spices unusual enough to be currency, and we're sitting in a restaurant. They might be willing to trade.>

[Northwest Slobovia]

Ji rikknit, Corellian Sector Fusion Restaurant, The Spire

Sandy gently tapped his temple with his free hand, giving Amanda, Meritari, and Maghrl significant looks. Amanda gritted her teeth, looked over at Nick, and whispered, “Begin”. Meritari nodded at the cat, realizing what was coming.

Nick repeated much the same thing, if phrased a bit differently, via three one-way connections; the languages and Babelfish were working well, and their table suddenly falling silent might prove noticeable. “And I just realized - that plan gives F-3PO a legal paper trail and lets him keep his identity. Without that, freeing him would - he wouldn't have many choices. He could stay here with forged papers which could be noticed, or come to Galli with us. If we traded, he would have proof of being free, and could go, well, anywhere.”

Both Sandy and Amanda started to reply, but Sandy broke off and let Amanda continue, surprisingly forcefully. “I’d rather not support the slavers when we can steal from them. I thought I made that clear before we started.” She paused, then restarted in a more neutral tone. “I think Sandy means to take him to ... our adoptive home.”

Sandy nodded once. “The hol--” Nick could hear his unspoken chuckle: ”The roots are Greek anyway!” “All-showing room says we saved over 700 books, about 25,000 pages of lost text. I can’t translate that all myself.”

After a pause, he seemed to complete Amanda’s thought: “If we can commit a perfect crime, we’ll be fine.” He seemed to consider his silverware closely. “Suppose the, uh, victim of the kidnapping were to be seen leaving the scene of the ‘crime’. Wouldn’t that remove suspicion from us?”

“Mrrr?”

A bright smile lit Sandy’s face, and an image filled Nick’s mind: Sandy enchanting himself, the scholar’s face changing to the droid’s accompanied by a tiny fragment of Sandy’s understanding of the magic. “A little presto-chango.”

“That would work! The problem is - doesn't F-3PO deserve the right to choose whether or not he wants to go to Galli?”

“We remove restraint, ask him, if he wish stay, let him return,” Maghrl nodded.

Amanda continued that thought. “He can’t make that decision until we ‘liberate’ him, because his shackles prevent him from making that choice.

[OOC: The collab is strong with this one.]

[Fvaarniimar]

Ji rikknit, Corellian Sector Fusion Restaurant, The Spire

Exasperation. “I mean after he's been liberated. If he stays in this universe and his identity isn't airtight, he might get caught and returned. If he doesn't have hard evidence that he's freed, he won't have much choice but to come, even if he'd rather stay in his home reality. If he's freed in a legal manner or we can fake it convincingly enough, he could very well return to his homeworld if he wanted. Maghrl? How effective/airtight is your forgery? Could it give him that option?”

“Good forgery, yes, few droid who live-thrive on own though. Even if legal-freed, often need to rely-work with organics. Not much choice, but outer rim often have droid-colonies or droid-enclaves of escaped droids. Better than used to be, but many remember droid wars before Empire still.”

“...So he wouldn't have many choices in this universe, regardless.” Teeth bared, the cat snarled quietly. “Mad at them, not any of you.”

Amanda’s smile was almost as predatory. “Which is why I want to change this society, not buy it off. “ After a moment, and another return to a neutral tone, “So, do we have an agreement? Oh, and I think we should disable a camera in an elevator, if I understand what Sandy intends.”

“Yes - I'm in. Meri, Maghrl?”

Maghrl nodded, not needing to say much.

Having listened (physically and mentally) to the whole conversation, Meritari slowly took off one of her jeweled bracelets instead of responding verbally at first, raising it for the others to see. “This will work fine for our bait, right?” She asked them, knowing that she had made her opinion abundantly clear.

“I’d certainly try to return it to you if you left it,” mused Nick.

Sandy nodded vigorously, and added sotto voce, “it might be better to take it off as you eat, as though it was getting in your way.”

[Northwest Slobovia]

Kuati Dreams
Ji rikknit, Corellian Sector Fusion Restaurant, The Spire

Amanda spotted a cylindrical droid carrying the platter of appetizers Sandy ordered for the table; she hissed something about "slave labor" just before the droid placed the patter in the center of the table and set out small plates for everybody using its many long arms. Amanda looked over the platter, then picked up one small orange-red cake with the serving tongs. "This is the marinated crab and wild poultry cake, right?" The droid filled up everybody's water glasses as Amanda spoke.

Sandy nodded and pointed to what seemed like a fried bun. "Something like a hush puppy: local coarse flour stuffed with vegetables from... uh, five or six different planets. It's mildly -- it's fancy comfort food." Amanda took one of those too, and passed the tongs to Sandy, who took one before offering the tongs to the rest of the group.

Amanda got out her phone and snapped a picture of her appetizers, then looked expectantly at Sandy. He shook his head and frowned, returning to Greek. "It's memory is full. Didn't get a chance to change it." The droid hurried off as Amanda took took a bite of her hush puppy. "Mmmmm! Nothing like mom used to make, but oh! so good!"

The wine steward returned with the same droid in tow, carrying drinks. She offered Amanda her brandy, which Amanda eagerly accepted, and then made the usual show of opening the bottle of wine and letting Sandy consider the cork and contents. Sandy nodded appreciatively, and the wine steward filled his glass, before politely asking if anybody else would like a glass.

Nearby, a train of droids was making its way to the table, each one bearing one of the group's entrées.

[Holy Lykos]

Kuati Dreams
Spire

"Good, Food. Let's us enjoy-eat 'forewise we walk-head back to ship in Ship-Lander-Bay Nen Hundred-eight." Spoken in easily audible Basic for the protocol droids to overhear, in that peculiar tone of nonchalant loudness affected only by those with so much money even being robbed wouldn't affect. Not that in such a high class restaurant there would be much of a risk of the right kind of lowlife to overhear. The alien face of their purple companion briefly twisted into a clever smile, before he switched back to the haughty confidence he had been affecting in public since their arrival.

As the appetizers rolled past Maghrl used a long reach and a subtle bit of Force manipulation to bring out a dish to set between Nick and himself. A very raw looking pairing of meats that didn't look too dissimilar to bacon-wrapped sausage, basted with some sort of lightly caramelized coating with thin wooden skewers in each. The skewers were topped by a bulb to make it easier for even those without as dexterous of hands to remove the skewers. Maghrl took the time to remove the skewers from roughly half of the plate with a nod, and bright twinkle in the eye, to Nick. A similar plate found its way between the humans, with clear grill marks. A variant made for those without the ability to digest raw meats, obviously.

"Squib think-guess friend-group very full after soon-to-come meal-food, yes yes."

---

Frozen Rain

"One thing to read, another to practice..." Sterling started, eyes on his food and the ground past his knees. "Especially because I feel more unwieldy since the whole," He paused for a moment to look at Willow, still trying to get used to the pale human face in front of him, "Food. Poisoning, uh, thing." It hopefully was implied to Willow just what the former-unicorn meant. Sterling sighed, briefly contemplating his options. There were none. No use for a librarian in a war.

"I'm going though. Any aid would be appreciated before we move on. Maps, intelligence, equipment: we lack any of it beyond where we are right now and what we have to do." Sterling spoke, trying his best to sound confident. It only half worked. "It wouldn't be much to go on, but it would be something. You've already been kinder to us strangers than would normally warrant," He bit his tongue to cut off 'when it comes to humans especially'. "Thank you." A curt, awkward nod. At least that motion was half-familiar even if his head was mounted higher than he was used to. Hell Sterling could tell he was slouching to try matching the normal way he saw things. He straightened his back with a pop of vertebral cartilage

"However, I think we should eat first. Rest our legs and check for uh... shrapnel?" He searched, only half familiar with military terminology from his reading of human military history. "We did just gallop through a field of explosions after all."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Kuati Dreams
Ji rikknit, Corellian Sector Fusion Restaurant, The Spire

Discreetly putting her bracelet back on so as to avoid drawing attention after having showed it to the group, Meritari looked up just in time to notice a strangely-shaped machine with several appendages approaching their table, laying out a single large plate with several types of tasty-looking, exotic appetizers, as well as several smaller ones for everyone seated at the table and a pair of tongs for their use. The Kemetian couldn't lie, many of the foodstuffs laid out in front of her looked, and more importantly, smelled delicious, but she waited politely for the others to have their picks first, listening to their conversations to learn a bit more about the various dishes.

As the wine steward arrived and handed the others the drinks they'd ordered, including Amanda's brandy and Sandy's Saccorian wine, Meritari found herself having a bottle and a glass full of the fine red grape wine that the menu had suggested to her to accompany her meal. Expressing her gratitude with a simple gesture of her head to avoid running into more language barriers, the Kemetian turned her attention back to the appetizers, as she'd already tried the wine earlier and felt it was best to save it for the main course. Grabbing the now unclaimed tongs, she took one of the meal dishes that Mag had chosen and put it on her plate, along with what the Belas called a 'hush puppy' and a couple other items; she wanted to try everything, but back home she hadn't been known for having a massive appetite, so she had to settle for picking whatever picked her curiosity the most.

Afterwards, the young woman spent most of her time tasting the appetizers she had picked for herself, pondering, contrasting, and in some cases, marveling at the various flavors she was being treated to by the Belas' spice money. It was all very enjoyable, even if some of the food items didn't entirely cater to her tastes, and so, time for her went fairly quickly between the arrival of the appetizers and the arrival of their orders. A line of droids quickly arrived at the table, making a superb optimization of the space on it and laying out the group's chosen main courses.

Now done with her appetizers, the Kemetian grabbed her cutlery and began attempting to use it on her meal, making a show of calculated clumsiness as she repeatedly struggled to eat with her bracelets on. With an exasperated expression on her face, she put down the silverware and took off her jeweled bracelets, placing them on an empty spot on the table and then resuming her meal, now unhindered. She offered the other members of their small group a conspirative smile afterwards; Maghrl had already conveniently revealed where they would be heading after dinner, and now she too had carried out her part of the plan, so now what was left was enjoying dinner and waiting for things to play out as intended.

The first part, at least, would be a simple matter, as the combination of fine red wine and the Corellian pasta dish was simply wonderful to her, and the woman from ancient times allowed her taste buds to be coddled as she continued to indulge herself.