Tides of Destiny

[Sarela Malkova]

Outer Rim Territories
Thanium Sector, Elerion system, R-6
Elerion, Outer Orbit, aboard the Starlight

The Indulgent-Class Luxury Starliner came to a smooth standstill as it docked inside of a space station high above the planet Elerion, within the Thanium sector. Apparently, or so Sarela had overheard, Elerion was one of the most notorious gambling planets this side of the Galaxy, which she could only assume was way the Starlight had made such an abrupt stop on its well-planned out journey through the known star systems. Already, she could hear the disoriented and somnolent muttering of people as they exited from their luxurious accommodations, having been roused by the Starlights sudden stop.

Sarela, having awoken hours ago, was positioned at a table overlooking the planet, an extravagant view of the outside space provided to her. The table, which she had claimed as her own only a week into their journey, was where she spent most of her time; when not flowering arranging or painting inside of her secluded room, watching as stars and planets passed them by one by one. The muttering continued as no less than ten others came, their numbers growing more as the seconds ticked by, to look outside and see the planet they'd stopped at, confused looks passing from person to person.

"Elerion wasn't on the lists of destinations." someone said, their voice above the others.

"So?" another replied, "Maybe we're here just to refuel or something."

Then began the bickering back and forth as entitled elitist after entitled elitist vied to have their voice heard over the one beside them, each taking one side or another. Sarela, ever withdrawn, simply looked out into space, letting their shrill voices wash over her. Leave it to the captain of the Starlight and its crew to interrupt her quiet time.

It was only, as their voices rose higher, shouting matches breaking out among individuals, that Sarela finally stood and began walked away from the growing crowd, mind set on returning to her room. As she was walking, the Starlight gave a sudden lurch forward, causing many to fall to the ground. Thankfully, for Sarela, she was able to grab ahold of a table before toppling over and joining the pile of bodies on the hard floor.

"What the hell?" the high-pitched shriek of a woman with no less than three people on her shouted; others quickly joining in.

Within moments, a male voice came on the intercom system, "Patrons of the Starlight, please, in a systematic fashion, return to your rooms. Our ship is being boarded for inspection. Within the hour, we should be returning to our projected destination. Thank you." And with that, the voice faded away. Nervous glances were traded as everyone, including Sarela, embarked back into their rooms.

When inside her spacious cabin, the fresh scent of many types of flowers, mixed with paint, flushed over Sarela's senses. She could only hope, just like everyone else, no doubt did, that the inspect would end quickly and they'd be on their way. The less they looked, the less likely that anything strange about the information that Sarela had provided about herself would come up. She didn't want any problems, simply peace to enjoy the last bit of money that she had left after escaping from Orvax IV nearly two years ago.


Side Note: The planet Elerion is within the grid coordinates R-6, making it extremely close to the planets Korriban and Felucia. So I would assume that this would either be a Sith or Galactic Empire inspection. Either or is fine by me, so whoever posts first after this is free to choose whichever of the two they'd like. This, in retrospect, shouldn't hinder anyone wishing to Roleplay, so please, everyone that wishes feel free to join in.

Please feel free to read this post to learn more about Sarela!

[Professor Mors]

OOC: Ask and you shall receive~

Spend-thrifts and thrill-seekers. Under normal circumstances, a well-bred Imperial could stomach their wanderlust and carefree disposition. However, when a dubious barge of such socialites appeared without warning, and in direct violation of procedure, the ever-watchful agents of the Empire could hardly afford to sit on their hands. Thus it fell to Line Captain Doren Vassyl to slap as many wrists as were needed, and ensure that the Northern Border remained undisturbed. With the pressure from the loathsome Alliance undimmed along the Hydian Way, the frequency and duration of patrols had only been increased in recent weeks. What's more, the Thanium Sector's proximity to a certain, high-security region of space rendered it particularly prone to scrutiny.

The Sith-Imperial Ceasefire was neither guaranteed nor abundantly firm in foundation, and the Naval High Command was most keen to monitor any ships leaving the Gordian Reach, whilst likewise preventing any miscellaneous vessels from poking the hog-bear so close to its nest. Delicacy was in high demand, and Doren was not likely to sacrifice it any time soon. The Captain, for his part was tired, and it shone clearly on his face. Patches of flesh peeled freely from his cheeks, and a small, but noticeable scar cleaved down the middle of his left eyebrow had only recently shown signs of healing. Both were souvenirs gained only some weeks prior, at the hand of a most lethal Dark Sider. But for now, the opposition appeared to be hapless, or non-threatening at the least.

"I want all bridge staff detained", Vassyl instructed to his armored charges, "By force if necessary". A silent stormtrooper needed only to nod, before motioning for their colleagues to march briskly down one of the many lavish corridors. "Lieutenant", Doren addressed one of his commissioned aides, sporting the same naval gray as their superior, "Locate an open computer terminal: we'll need to review the passenger dossier, as well as the cargo manifest". A curt, 'Aye Sir' followed thereafter, and the Captain, along with a reduced two-man guard, was left to their own devices. Vassyl positioned a gloved hand under his chin, and stood a while in thought. Then, clasping both hands back behind his back, he started down the hallway once more, "Let's see if we can't find an audience in the galley. Or, perhaps the audience will find us first".

[Sarela Malkova]

Sarela focused solely on the blank canvas before her, mindlessly running her brush across its clean surface, choosing to pointedly ignore the unified sounds of boots as they marched up and down the hallways, their heavy steps echoing with threating and menacing promises of imprisonment, or worse. She could only hope that the captain of the Starlight would soon give the okay to once again begin their cross journey exploration of the Galaxy. Then, afterwards, she'd spend the last of the credits she'd gotten for selling Zyrias Forto esteemed artefacts, gems and jewels on a home in some remote location within the Galaxy and disappear, never to be seen again. Or so she hoped.

Sarela had found the captain, Azalyn Shoma's, over two months beforehand; who'd taken pity on the young girl, offering Sarela a home aboard the Starlight for her last cross-Galaxy tour at a reduced rate. War had long since ravished her business and was no longer truly profitable, along with becoming extremely dangerous as time went on. At least, from what Azalyn had told her, before the death of the Emperor at the hands of the Rebellion, and the somewhat collapse of the Empire long before Sarela's birth; she'd been able to traverse the Galaxy with relative ease, thanks to her connections that were long gone.

Swallowing, she truly looked at the painting for the first time. Red lines mixed with black, creating a sinister and swirling effect. As if treating to swallow her hole. In some sense, she knew that today would either lead to her death or the one thing she'd sought out since killing Zyrias Forto: Freedom.

---

Azalyn Shoma licked her lips, long silver hair flowing down her back in tendrils; nervousness radiating from her body as she took in the immense boarding party, having chosen to leave the somewhat safety of her chambers. Without right-out destroying the Starlight, her room was heavily fortified with state-of-the-art security making it near impenetrable without causing a few deaths for those who chose to forcefully enter it. And then, there was always her own personal escape pod, tucked away so that only she'd be able to access it.

Glancing at her reflection in a masterful piece of artwork that she no longer remembered where she acquired it from, her haggard appearance shone back on her. Once she'd been a beautiful young woman but now, well into her eighties, her once youthful facade was long gone due to the many hardships she'd faced in her time.

Once out in the open, it didn't take long for the uniform of the Imperials to become immediately recognisable. Her pilot, a middle-aged man, was already being lined up along-side her other staff members. It would seem that the passengers had yet to receive the same treatment as her crew.

"My name is Azalyn Shoma, the captain of this vessel. I would ask that you please commence with your search and leave as soon as possible. I apologize for any regulations that I may have unknowingly broken. I'm not kept up-to-date as of late on the latest policy changes going about. We're simply here to refuel and then be on our way." She tried to keep the nervousness from her voice, but she was sure that it no doubt bled through in droves, afraid not only for herself but those around her.

OOC: I hope that it's alright for me to actually use Azalyn. I figured it would help in moving the progress of the story along more smoothly. If not, I'll refrain from doing so in the future.

[Kell Sangros]

OOC: I hope you guys dont mind me jumping in

On the luxury liner, a man who was by estimation in his late 20s early 30s was a passenger, he was returning to Sith space, until the Imperial inspection. He had the Force but his skills were very basic, enough to serve him but not enough to label him as a Sith Acolyte or Apprentice. He had used the alias “Jaycen Sidewinder” he never really went by that name any longer not ever since he had joined the Sith Empire’s special forces unit simply codenamed: The Dawn Patrol. His code name had simply been Caine. He was an expert on Tera Kasi as well as weapons and tactics. He was not on Dawn Patrol business that brought him to the current state of affairs. He had been doing a mission for the Sith Lord he served. A man known as Warvanus or in some circles “The War Bringer” he had been investigating a site for what he himself did not know, clues, relics, he did not know but all he found was sand. His mission had been a loss and now he was on this luxury liner in an effort to return to the world of Karza which was the name given to Sojourn’s primary.

He remained in his cabin not wanting to cause trouble with the Imperials , after all there was a cease fire in place and he did not want to be the reason why it broke. He had never worked with the Imperials and he had nothing of interest to them, afterall all he found was sand on his mission. He sat in the cabin hoping this would not take long to get through, he had more important things to do. Surprisingly When he reported his findings to his Sith Master he was not angry, it was a outcome he suspected that came as expected. Either way he had to return for debriefing and then he would get his next assignment.

The emotions and tensions he could feel through his limited use of the Force was high. This could easily get nasty really quick. He hoped he was wrong. He could not rest instead he started to pace as if like a caged animal.

[Professor Mors]

"If you were here for a simple stop and refuel", the gruff trooper barked through his plastoid transponder, "You could have bothered to alert the orbital customs office". Banging on the door to the captain's quarters with dull end of an E-11 blaster rifle, the squad leader made his grievance known, and added, "Come out now and submit yourself to examination. The sooner you cooperate the better". Pointing the lethal end of the barrel out in the general vicinity of the other, already apprehended crew, the trooper warned, "Attempting to evade a trade inspection is a serious offense, and parties can and will be found guilty by association". Azalyn was welcome to make her escape, but doing so would easily doom her comrades to a life of forced labor and penance. The only alternatives were to comply, or forcefully resist arrest.

Through the tumultuous assassination of the Emperor Kol, and the brief coup d'état that established the Karn Dynasty, the Empire had certainly seen its share of dangerous tides. Similarly, the wretched Sith insurgency, coupled with a timely rebel intervention, had seen Coruscant ripped from the hands of the Imperial Government, and perpetrated a serious of lethal revolts across the Galaxy. Now standing at half the capacity it maintained during the Golden Age, the servants of Her Majesty, Alissa Karn, had their work cut out for them: but it was work they would accomplish all the same. If anything, the destabilizing events of recent cycles had inadvertently tightened the Empire's iron grasp over its remaining territories. And no one ship would be overlooked in the name of border security.

And, whilst the marine contingent continued to harass the patrons of the Starlight, Doren found his search to be more and more cumbersome. All of the shared public spaces had seemingly been emptied, and the Captain quickly reached the conclusion that a room to room inquiry would be necessary. Thankfully, Vassyl's Lieutenant had succeeded in acquiring a comprehensive list of the ship's occupants, and the process became more or less streamlined. Having upset a rather vocal Dug and his traveling companions, Doren was beginning to grow weary of the exercise. Still, he pressed onward, and politely rapped a closed fist against another pallid doorway. Interesting, this threshold seemed to possess a sort of fragrant aroma: perhaps a traveling horticulturist?. "Customs inspection", Vassyl announced dryly, "Please produce your travel permit and identification for review".

[Sarela Malkova]

Gritting her teeth, Azalyn did as told, the doors to her quarters opening. If she complied, it was her ultimate hope that the Imperials would be on their way quickly and mechanically just as they'd entered. "No need to be so uncivilised, here, my customs permit," she said, handing over her datapad. "I attempted to send the station a comm beforehand, but they didn't bother replying. It's my fault for taking the wrong hyperlane in the first place." Her tone was neutral, doing her utmost to keep a facade of indifference. Of course, it was just her luck to be commandeered on the last leg of her last voyage.

"I would ask that you once more please go about your search quickly so that we might be back on our way." Finding a thread of confidence, she looked the trooper square in the eyes. Azalyn wouldn't allow this man, or anyone for that matter, to try and frighten her.

---

Hearing the rapping at her door, Sarela knew that they'd finally made their way to her accommodations, the cabin she'd begun to think of as a safe haven, no doubt going room to room, checking to make sure that everyone aboard the Starlight was meant to be there; the voice on the other side asking for her permit and identification. Taking a calming breath, she searched for the datapad containing such information, finding it covered in paint. Apparently, at one point during their travels, Sarela had used it to hold a container of indigo paint, no doubt having spilt when the ship had lurched forward so violently earlier.

Wiping it off the best she could with a sheet, she looked at herself in the wall-length mirror, which stretched from end to end, the other side of the room providing a clear view to the black void of space. Her hair, dark grey and done up in an extravagant bun atop her head, gleamed in the light, helping to accentuate her pointed ears. The dress, silver in colour, hung down her petite frame; the front shorter than the back, showing off the lower half of her legs. She wore no footwear, having removed them once she'd enter her cabin. Choosing to keep them off, Sarela found no real point in putting them on as a false humility for the man on the other side.

Flowers, which covered the room, were placed together in extravagant bouquets. A woman on the Starlight had offered her some credits for one, but Sarela had declined the offer; they were hers. She had made each by hand, after all.

Taking a moment to calm herself, she walked over to the door and pressed a hand against it, causing the door to slide silently open, displaying the man who'd been speaking moments beforehand. "Here," she said, voice quiet, outstretching her arm carefully towards him, as to hand the datapad over; still having a lingering bit of paint plastered onto its sleek glass frame, "my identification and permit as asked. Both are on the datapad." Looking down, she tried to seem as unimpressive as possible. The less the man took notice of her, the better.

OOC: Of course not! Everyone that wishes to join is welcomed!

[Professor Mors]

The squad leader felt much more amicable in light of Azalyn's sudden appearance. That said, her request for the Imperials, while understandable, was found in poor taste for making new friends. Hastily snatching the dataslate from the ship's overseer, the trooper coolly growled back, "Save the excuses and stay put. So long as no one else gets touchy we'll all be on our way soon enough". With that, the choleric infantryman ordered his comrades to keep watch over the other crew members, before setting off to deliver the Miss Shoma's information to the resident data analyst. It did not take the man long to locate the lieutenant and question, and soon the pair began to comb over the datalog for anything out of the ordinary. If Azalyn was hiding something, it would not take long to discern what it might be.

Doren, meanwhile, had been met with a softer voice than he'd expected, and one that betrayed the pitch of youth. As the door to Sarela's room slid open, Vassyl was startled to find no occupant in sight, until his gaze drifted down, alighting on a teenager that could not have been older than sixteen or seventeen by the Captain's estimate. Putting on as friendly an air as he could manage, Doren offered the child a neighborly grin, and gently accepted the datapad from her airy grasp. "Thank you Miss-", Vassyl started, running a finger along the datapad's touchscreen, "Malkova: your cooperation is appreciated". So far so good. The girl, while having originated from outside of Imperial Space, didn't broadcast any rebel or pirate affiliation from her records, or her previous travel destinations.

Still, at the humble age of fifteen, Vassyl could not help but wonder why such a youth might be unattended at a time like this. Without drawing his eyes from the digital manifest, Doren indulged a peaceable probe, "Have your parents bunkered down in some other section of the ship? It's hardly your responsibility to handle this sort of thing". In an attempt to cultivate small talk, the Captain shot an knowing look at the girl, all the while oblivious to her situation, "Or have you been making this exodus to Elerion all by your lonesome? You'd have to be quite brave to do so I imagine". The gesture was meant in good faith, and running against the odds the girl was a lone displaced refugee. Only her denial or retort would serve to educate the young officer further.

[Sarela Malkova]

Lacing her fingers together, Sarela placed her open palms against her lean stomach, returning the grin with one of her own. The man, whose name she'd yet received, began his inquiry. Not overly imposing as of yet; though she was sure that could change in a moments notice of the slightest infraction to her immaculate record of travel erudition within the datapads memory bank. "Thank you, sir," Sarela replied, voice melodious, "I can only hope that the others aboard the Starlight have been as accommodating as I have. Though, some here can be rather turbulent at times." At this, a giggle surfaced; trying to create an aura of innocence about herself for the man. The less impressive she appeared, the swifter the man would be at going about his inspections.

"Ah," Sarela said when he asked about her parents, "they're gone. They died some time ago." Looking downwards and away; a sad disposition formed on her facial features, her tone laced with melancholy, yet still retaining the musical resonance to it. "So it's solely me here on the Starlight. The captain, Azalyn Shoma, was nice enough to give me a reduced rate. The rest I paid with money I get for selling my flower bouquets." She looked behind, pointing towards an overflowing table of exotic flowers that she'd acquired through the Starlights exodus. A half-truth, but still, the most practical answer for the man's inquiries. "It's how I've been able to survive as long as I have when many would have succumbed to starvation or lease savoury methods of survival." Another semblance of truth, seeing as she'd already been through such methods of torture and humiliation at the hands of her slaver, the crisscrossing scars lining her back a testament to such truths.

Keeping her voice forthcoming in their conversation, Sarela found herself speaking more freely, "I can only hope that the Captain has been as equally understandable in her questioning. She can seem snobbish at times, but she's a rather kind woman when you get to know her." Looking upwards towards the man once more, their height difference noticeably apparent, seeing as she had to break her neck to look him in the eyes, Sarela offered up another smile, "I'd heard some rather trifling things about Imperials, from those staying here on the Starlight, but you've been very understanding; which I must thank you for." With that said, the young girl waited for the man to continue with his search of information displayed within the datapad, keeping her demeanour opening and welcoming towards him and their light conversation.

[Kell Sangros]

Caine did not wait long before he could hear commotion outside his cabin. He opened he door and peered outside into the hall to see what was going on. Alarms and chaos ensued on the deck he was on, the presense of stormtroopers was never a good sign.

He knew the best course of action would be to stay put, he only hoped that this would not turn ugly. He knew they were near Sith space and close to Imperial territory, he asked himself if this was Sith space the treatment would most likely be the same if not worse. He got that. He just hoped his end was not on this luxury liner. He closed the door and went to the bed going thorugh his belongings he had all the proper ids and papers, including documentation proving he had diplomatic credentials for the Sith.

He briefly pondered if he should attempt to make a break for a pod or something but common sense took over and decided to stay put. He just hoped that this would not delay him for too long.

[Professor Mors]

OOC: Dast informed me of your desire to traipse towards the Sith; consider this an opportunity to dismiss me from the thread, or entertain a brief detainment that would allow Dastan and his colleague to collect you shortly thereafter. No pressure either way! And feel free to DM me with any concerns and or questions!

The ungracious rapping of blaster rifles on doors, locked or otherwise, rang nearer and nearer to Caine's location. Needless to say, the Imperials weren't on the lookout for any specific tomfoolery, but any shifty patron attempting to evade inspection would have to prove themselves lucky, or swift. The troop leader was taking no great pleasure in a task that, in his mind, was beneath him, and his personal haste was proportionally accented by his distaste of the whole sordid affair. Where was the Security Bureau for this nonsense?! Couldn't they just round them all up and detain them for a brief hour- make sure nothing blew up? Alas, the politicians and bureaucrats were seemingly making light of the military once more.

Back down the hall, Vassyl was confronted with a set of equally uncomfortable circumstances: but his reaction was not anger, but shame. An orphan! Of all the insensitive jabs, this was high on the list- and he hadn't even meant it! Of course, there was no way of knowing, though that didn't provide the Captain any solace. No doubt, the youth would notice the color draining from his face in light of such folly: some role-model adult he was! Think Doren- more importantly, pay attention! Vassyl was quick to register the girl's self-declared livelihood, and found a moment's reprieve from her judgmental countenance in the various floral arrangements dotting the interior of the child's room. As Sarela finished her multi-faceted exposition, the Captain took a slight exhale, and pondered his follow-up.

"It is no small compliment to receive praise from a citizen of a foreign power, Miss Malkova", Doren began, dipping forward in a slight bow, "But I must apologize my presumptive comment from before: I have no doubt set a poor example". Presenting another genuine smile, that pained Vassyl some to deliver, "I know what it means to lose a parent myself: indeed, I was not much older than you are now. I cannot begin to imagine how difficult it must have been for you to have made it this far without your mother or father. For that, you have my sincerest apologies, and earnest sympathies". It was a large, cruel Galaxy, and one which should never have to be traveled alone. Yet her the youth stood, weathering the storm, making a living, and pursuing whatever form of happiness she could manage.

It was inspiring- refreshing to say the least. Surely such a child would be well-received at any sort of asylum on the merits of having made it this far. However, a frown contorted across the Captain's face as the further ramifications of the girl's situation swelled within his mind. "I have noticed", Doren began again in a neutral tone, "That you have not identified a legal guardian on your holodocuments". Extended the datapad back to Salera, Vassyl attempted to sustain an even voice, but a measure of darkness succeeded in creeping in, "If you have such a figure to declare, I must ask that you do so now: under Imperial Custody Act 889-K3, all humanoid minors must be claimed and accompanied by an appropriate adult at all times. Failure to meet this stipulation will result in expulsion from Imperial Territory, or seizure by the Regional Foster Society".