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Embarkation
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| Treslar | Date: Sunday, 29 May 2016, 12:29 PM | Message # 1 |
 Trainee
Group: Users
Messages: 3
Status: Offline
| The city of Ciran on the planet Cirrus was one of the hidden gems of the Outer Rim. Situated on a picturesque bay, the many colorful awnings of this star-shaped city lent it a festive atmosphere. The lack of appreciable industry in Ciran or elsewhere on Cirrus kept the population low and the planet's environment pristine. Ciran was favored among artists, many of whom sat alongside the city's dock painting Ciran Bay—and the Mon Calamari cruise ship Naboo Queen resting on the water.
A beautiful world, to be sure, but still a long way for the Queen's passengers to travel. (Most cruises boarded far nearer to the Core worlds.) There were reasons for this, of course. Officially, it was because Cirrus was simply closer to the Dreighton Nebula. The cruise was scheduled to last about a week, and boarding the ship at Spira, for instance, would add another week to that. The Queen had the finest amenities on offer, but even so, most sentients couldn't stand more than 7 to 10 days on a ship.
There was another reason, however. Cirrus was also close to the planet Troska, whose King had just been forcibly deposed by the Empire. The Troskan monarchists had put up a good fight, but lost. The palace had fallen and the King had disappeared into Imperial custody, probably never to be seen again. So the monarchists had a cache of weapons they didn't need and decided the best revenge was to donate them to the Rebel Alliance. The weapons had been stashed aboard a Trade Federation freighter, which now transferred its cargo to the Naboo Queen as the artists unwittingly painted the scene on their canvasses. Because the cargo wasn't being off-loaded onto Cirrus itself, there was no need for a customs inspection—only the Captain's signature.
Having signed his name, Treslar handed the datapad back to the Trade Federation pilot, an aloof Dug, then turned his attention back to his passengers as they boarded the Queen. He stood beside the ship's ramp, his hands behind his back in a regal pose, and a welcoming smile on his face as he greeted the VIPs. He didn't enjoy this ritual, but it was expected of the ship's captain. Most of these people had enriched themselves on the backs of enslaved species such as the Mon Calamari. Many of them weren't pleased to see an alien greet them, either. Moff Romodi had once handed Treslar his coat as he boarded the Queen.
But he was dead now.
And for a moment, Treslar's smile was genuine.
Officially, this cruise was a benefit for the Chandrilan Arts Conservatory. But it was also one of the few occasions that many out-of-work Imperial senators had had to meet with one another since the destruction of Alderaan and disbanding of the Senate. There were probably Rebel sympathizers among them, Treslar reminded himself. Not to mention a Rebel operative masquerading as a member of the staff. He glanced every now and then at the ship's service ramp to see if he could pick out this mysterious Rebel, but he didn't know what he, she, or it looked like. Not yet.
Treslar
Captain of the Naboo Queen
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| Adoven Ryner | Date: Sunday, 29 May 2016, 11:11 PM | Message # 2 |
 Ensign
Group: Users
Messages: 10
Status: Offline
| Adoven Ryner looked impatiently at his chrono as the repulsorcab came to a halt at the passenger landing area. He was early enough but was punctual to a fault. Payment was made before exiting and an official came forward to examine his identification documents and tickets, trying in vain to ingratiate himself with the celebrity. Ryner was courteous enough but quickly gone to let the company attendants deal with his luggage—which there was a lot of—as he meandered towards the quay intending to reach his allocated entrance. Segregation ran rampant and a cruise ship was no different: cabin, tourist and steerage classes each had designated points of entry to the vessel so that the class below wouldn’t inconvenience the one above.
He desperately needed a vacation and this seemed just the ticket. After all, he hadn’t been on a cruise in ages. “I told you it was him!” a shrill girlish voice shouted excitedly as he walked by. He was sure he saw a flash from the corner of his eye. Doubling his step without so much as turning back, Ryner intended to reach the gangplank area as fast as he could without interruptions. Spotted already it seemed. Ah well. He had known not to expect any anonymity. It was said that next to the Emperor, there were a handful of other individuals who were prevalent across the galaxy and Adoven Ryner—Ministry of Information poster child, HoloNet News anchor, commentator on Dateline Coruscant, producer and host of The Pulse, as well as being a recipient of one Peamoney Award, one Nova Award, and two Poracsa Awards—was one of them. During regular programming season he was beamed into the homes and workplaces of the galaxy’s denizens keeping them up to speed with Ministry approved news. However regular programming season was over and after both the Alderaan fiasco and his loss at this year’s Poracsa Prizes, he yearned for some time off air. In fact many blamed his recent loss for the strained look on his usually congenial visage. They couldn’t be more wrong.
As he neared the gangplank of the rich and famous he bumped into familiar faces,issuing a polite greeting to those he knew in passing and a more substantial acknowledgement to those he knew personally. Most of these were individuals he had interviewed or met through his father, the Rhinnalian senator, or rather the former senator. As he neared his ramp he noticed the Mon Calamarian Captain standing by and greeting the upper echelons as they boarded.
“How do you do, Captain Treslar?” he greeted him in his crisp Coruscanti accent as he faced him. “I’ve already been informed I’ll be at your table for the Captain's Dinner. I must thank you, it’s quite the honour.”
He was being genuine but with his line of work it was hard to tell. One became habituated to flashing that easy smile and adopting a sincere tone in order to charm. Heck, he would have been able to teach diplomacy to experts. He also had no issues talking to an alien, Captain of a luxury liner or not. While he did prize human culture above all else (since it was his own, after all), his line of work had made him more cosmopolitan than most of his race. And while he was sometimes aloof, this was due to his proper and structured upbringing than actual xenophobia.
“She is a beauty” he said looking at the liner. “I hope you’ll indulge me in a brief tour? I could even make a segment about it if you wish.”
Regardless of the answer he’d bow his head and accept the outcome.
Courtesies dispensed with, he proceeded up the ramp and into the liner. He looked forward to freshening up later on but knew better than to change. One never changed for the first night of a voyage. Anybody who is anybody knows that.
Adoven Ryner
Corespondent on Dateline Coruscant
Producer and anchor of The Pulse
Recipient of 2 Poracsa Awards and 1 Nova Award
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| Ilanah_Ilyone | Date: Monday, 30 May 2016, 11:03 PM | Message # 3 |
 Officer
Group: Users
Messages: 61
Status: Offline
| The former Chandrilian senator was already on board, having arrived earlier with her small entourage, and a large cache of art. There she stood, in the main lobby of the ship, watching, no, supervising workers who were not only arranging some of the art pieces, but also making an attempt to put up a banner.
"I just feel like a banner is a bit....tacky..." She started, as she watched with her crystalline blue eyes, from beneath the brim of a large black and white hat. "Everyone knows why we are here, after all. It is not like the tickets were cheap." Her bodyguard, Riley, stifled a laugh as he stood behind her. "Really, Riley..." She scolded him as she took a step forward. "Yes, I think it needs to be removed. Thank you!"
"But, Ms. Ilyone..." The worker protested. She sighed and removed her hat, holding it with one hand before she looked up at the man on the ladder.
"I said....take it down. Please." Ilanah said firmly, before she turned and strode off to look over the paintings that were going on display. They were all student made, from the Chandrilian Arts Conservatory. Her mother had been a painter, and Ilanah herself studied not only painting, but drawing and sculpture, as well as music. And her mother was the reason behind it all. Unfortunately, her mother was no longer with them, so Ilanah had chosen to follow in her footsteps on behalf of the Conservatory...to keep it running, and to give scholarships to those who might need them. That was, after all, the entire point of this cruise.
Meanwhile, the other guests would have surely been arriving, greeted by the Mon Calamari ship captain. "Riley...please make sure you take care of the luggage. I'll be fine here." Begrudgingly, he did as she asked, while she finished supervising the artwork that was being brought in.
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| Lym_Murdok | Date: Thursday, 02 Jun 2016, 4:31 PM | Message # 4 |
 Trainee
Group: Users
Messages: 5
Status: Offline
| An unmistakably Imperial landspeeder intruded upon the picturesque scene in Ciran, ambling up beside the quay with minimal regard for the crowd of passengers and attendants. The speeder, known in Imperial parlance as a 'Chariot LAV,' was an ugly, armor-plated conveyance, grey in color and absent any ornamentation or personality of any sort. In other words, the Empire was here.
The Chariot's hatch opened with a hiss as it came to a stop, and Lym Murdok was the first one out, his white tunic gleaming in the sun. But, like the Chariot itself, his countenance betrayed nothing of his personality, if indeed he had any. Murdok, a much-reviled Colonel in the Imperial Security Bureau, surveyed the scene with a demoniac glare that resembled a predator looking for its prey. A pair of stormtroopers clad in characteristic, bone-white armor climbed out of the speeder behind him.
Murdok narrowed his eyes as he sighted the Mon Calamari captain. He knew nothing about the Rebel cargo being loaded aboard the Naboo Queen at this very moment, but he heavily-suspected Treslar and his sympathies. The Empire wouldn't let this meeting of so many former Senators transpire without someone there to keep an eye on them, and that someone was Murdok. The loyalties of Imperial senators had become suspect; former Senators perhaps, but even so, this was a matter for Internal Affairs.
Most ISB officers assigned to this mission—a week-long cruise with the finest accommodations, food, and entertainment—would properly enjoy themselves. Not Murdok. He derived enjoyment only from the performance of his duty. (That, and a certain hobby of his that he kept a closely-guarded secret.) Moreover, Murdok didn't like these people. Senators, artists, celebrities. With the possible exception of Adoven Ryner, these people contributed nothing of value to the galaxy, and put their lavish tastes and vanity ahead of the collective good of the Empire. No, he would not enjoy himself. This was duty.
The Chariot LAV pulled away. Murdok nodded to the duo of stormtroopers, who then followed him up the ramp of the Naboo Queen bearing the spartan amount of luggage they'd brought with them. The tickets for this cruise may indeed have been expensive, but Murdok wouldn't know. He didn't have one, nor did he need one. His presence here was unexpected, but he would deem any refusal to accomodate him or his men to be obstruction of Imperial justice, for which there would be 'repercussions.' He secretly hoped that this Mon Calamari was small-brained enough to give him the excuse.
Colonel Lym Murdok
Imperial Security Bureau
Internal Affairs
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| Treslar | Date: Thursday, 02 Jun 2016, 8:10 PM | Message # 5 |
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Trainee
Group: Users
Messages: 3
Status: Offline
| Treslar knew Adoven Ryner. Everyone knew Adoven Ryner. He was the 'friendly face' of 'the New Order with a friendly face' philosophy, which had more recently been supplanted by the Tarkin 'rule through fear' doctrine. Perhaps this was the reason that Ryner appeared to Treslar more dour in person than he was on his holonet programs. There was a strain on his face that was unmistakable, but the man was pleasant enough. Surprisingly so, in fact. Treslar bowed his head cordially (he held his hands behind his back to spare Humans the unpleasantness of shaking the hand of an 'inferior species,' and spare himself the unpleasantness of shaking the hands of Human-chauvinist bigots. He had assumed Ryner to be one of them, but perhaps he'd misjudged the man).
Listening to Ryner's anecdotes about high society on Imperial Center wasn't the most enthusing prospect for Treslar, but he'd invited the man to his table because, for one thing, it was the proper thing to do; Ryner was probably the most high-profile guest in attendance, besides Ilanah Ilyone, the guest-of-honor, and Furva Keil, the Alderaanian master artist who would be painting the Dreighton Nebula during the trip and then auctioning the work to the guests. But moreover, having the face of the Empire himself at his table would deflect any suspicion from Treslar, or so he hoped.
"The honor would be mine," he answered with a practiced smile. Treslar hadn't been born into this life, but over his years of service on the Naboo Queen—first as an engineer, and later as the ship's captain—he'd probably learned as much of the upper-class pantomime as Ryner himself had. Not a one of his manners would be the slightest bit out-of-place.
Treslar was quietly relieved, however, when Ryner passed him by. That is, until the Imperial agent and his armor-clad thugs arrived. Their entrance couldn't be missed. Treslar's stomach tightened momentarily. Had the operation been discovered? He wondered grimly. Had they come to arrest him and impound the Queen? He began to consider how much of a fight to put up if indeed the worst had come to worst. He knew when he'd first joined the Rebellion that he was putting his life in danger, but it was worth it to him then. And it was worth it now.
No, these Imperials had no urgency. How much they knew, Treslar couldn't be sure. But they didn't intend to arrest him yet. They'd probably come to intimidate the guests in the usual Imperial fashion, or perhaps to ensure that Furva Keil didn't paint anything too subversive. Either way, if Treslar could avoid meeting this officer—a Colonel, by the look of it—he would do so. "Oh, Mr. Ryner," he called, turning crisply to walk after the man he'd just been happy to be rid of. "I think a tour of the ship is a splendid idea," he said, without the slightest hint of alarm in his voice, not that it would be easy for a Human to discern.
"We shall arrange a full tour in good time, but perhaps first you'd be interested in seeing the ball room and meeting our guest of honor, Ms. Ilyone? She was, of late, the Senator of Chandrila, so I would imagine she's an acquaintance of your father, no? Our attendants will see to your belongings," he added, inviting Ryner to join him.
Treslar
Captain of the Naboo Queen
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| Adoven Ryner | Date: Wednesday, 08 Jun 2016, 6:27 PM | Message # 6 |
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Ensign
Group: Users
Messages: 10
Status: Offline
| Ryner wasn't very far into the ship but he knew something had happened outside. Some event had changed the mood and it permeated the area. People still talked but something had shifted. It was as though the joviality of the crowd had instantly vanished. Little did he know it was the arrival of the Imperial Officer which had caused this, but he could have guessed it anyway. Curiosity getting the better of him, Ryner doubled back to peer through the entrance at the scene outside. Sure enough Murdok's appearance had put a dampener on things. Even his own mood had suddenly gotten somber. He knew the man by reputation and had crossed paths with him once or twice at MoI briefings but he had never really associated with him (and had never really wanted to). It was almost ironic, really: Ryner had booked this cruise to escape reality if only for a bit and reality had followed him here anyway. Though to be fair he should have known some Imperial presence would be on board to spoil this little voyage. It was only too obvious.
When Captain Treslar called him back he obligingly engaged him in conversation once more. This ensured that he only had enough time to give a courteous—if not curt—nod to the passing officer.
"I'm very pleased to hear it, Captain" he said nodding congenially to the Mon Calamari. "Yes, I do know her. Not very well, but well enough. And I'd be delighted to."
He'd seen Ilanah at the odd function his father attended and had brought him along to and had even received her on his show in the past. He thought her a sympathetic person and willingly followed after the Captain as he lead him to the ball room. All the while he was sure he could feel Murdok's gaze on his back—not that he would have anything to worry about, being such a dutiful Imperialist—but one never knew when the regime would turn on one. All it took was one misstep.
Adoven Ryner
Corespondent on Dateline Coruscant
Producer and anchor of The Pulse
Recipient of 2 Poracsa Awards and 1 Nova Award
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| Ilanah_Ilyone | Date: Saturday, 11 Jun 2016, 1:45 PM | Message # 7 |
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Officer
Group: Users
Messages: 61
Status: Offline
| "Captain!" Ilanah's voice rang out across the room, having caught the pair out of the corner of her eye. "And Advoen Ryner, my my, I should not at all be surprised that you are here!" Of course she knew who he was, and they had certainly met in passing on several occasions. She had also seen him on the guest list, but there were so many on the guest list that she did not remember every single name that would be in attendance.
"I truly hope that you do not mind me taking over some of the decorating arrangements here, Captain. I would just like everything to be absolutely perfect for this event. Just as my mother would have liked it." She said, her voice bubbly and full of excited anticipation. "What do you both think so far? Of course, the musicians are not set up just yet, but they are here, and unpacking and changing clothing."
She turned her gaze from the two and looked at the paintings being pulled from their crates and sat on display easels. "And the ballet company arrived an hour ago. I am exceedingly excited about that."
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