| abstract | - The front door opens allowing the lights from the under city to give the person at the door a silhouette in the clouds of dense smoke fills this dimly lit cantina. Moving down the narrow stairway from the door the humanoid woman heads past the triangular bar and through the choke point at this end of the bar. Moving through the narrow area Arissa is forced to turn to her side to slip past a brutish looking Rodian. Just as she passes the man, he reaches out to give her posterior a pat. That results in the silver skinned half-breed turning around and delivering a lightning fast blow to the Rodian’s head. The body hasn’t touched the ground before the bar erupts with laughter. Moving to the bar, Arissa orders her drink and adds, “Put it on his tab. He owes me one.” More laughter from the salty crowd. Yes, the mercenary was among her people, at least it looked that way. Tonight is the second one Enb'Zik has spent a number of hours patronizing the Head Quarters Cantina. He has decided, too, that Coruscant bothers him. For most of his life, the planet has always been tolerable. Now, though it's full of life, he has the insight to feel -- rather than simply knowing through logic -- how unnatural it all is. It would be untrue to say the planet has no ecosystem, yet what ecology it possesses is disrupted. Dare he think it? Retarded some way? The Sullustan hadn't been drinking enough to merit a place of his own at the bar. Maybe if he were here with Johanna that would be different. Yet he's not in a booth, either, hidden among the shadows. Rather, he stands near a wall, simply keeping an eye on things and casually brushing away the occasional spice vendor or prostitute. As laughter erupts, the Sullustan's mind is on his contemplations of this glittering world. He doesn't sense Arissa, but her manner of entry gains his gaze nonetheless, giving him pause a moment after he blinks. She's here, he realizes. Hands firmly in pockets, and with a small beeping bucket of bolts causing chaos, Juran swings a foot, kicking the back of his R2 unit as it beeps a few curses. "Oi, hush w'ya. Ahm' not gonna be havin' none of yer rubbish, iffin' yer gonna be a pain, ah'll switch ya off an' throw ya back onto the ship. Y'get me?" A faint *bwoop* and Juran seems pleased enough, pausing to take in a few deep breaths of the smoke. "Aaah.. S'better." The bartender pours Arissa the drink she had requested as the Rodin is still dusting off his pride and his shirt. Offering the brunette with purple streaks a few parting words, none of which are polite or complimentary. Arissa just laughs and waves off the man as he storms out of the bar, nearly tripping on his own feet. The captain of the Spark gives the bartender a knowing wink, and assures him she’ll watch her back when she leaves. That part of the drama over, Arissa knows how to make and entrance. Turning around and leaning against the bar the violet eyes scan the smoke filled room. She doesn’t reach out with her gift, yet for some odd reason the chanting in the back of her mind continues to try and warn her of something, or is just making it self heard. Arissa takes a long swallow of her drink and smiles. Hmm. Already given reason to second guess his being here, Enb'Zik stands back in his position and watches Arissa from a distance. He doesn't attempt to hide that he's watching her, either. Indeed, if she has the abilities he suspects of her, she may realize his gaze is on her soon enough, and that will be his cue to move forward. But right now, he observes. The woman's temper is short. Her reactions are violent. At the same time, she's in a part of Coruscant that most would agree isn't the best part of town. Without training, violence would be accepted by most as her best option. She's drinking, too. But, so does Zik. And Maker knows Johanna drinks so much that without the Force her liver would already be hardened into its own piece of limestone. Ikihsa finds himself hesitant, yet each bad feeling is met with a rationalization. If he realizes as much, it doesn't show. Juran grumbling and mumbling to himself like any guy would when he realizes that his Droid is a bit more sturdy than his toe is, he gives his Droid a swift kick with the side of his foot, sending the poor R2 unit into a series of whoops and beeps before it then swerves off, slowly coming to roll alongside the man. He grunts, flopping himself against the bar to take the weight off his feet. "Oi! S'abottle o' Lum, mate. Nn'a glass. Course. Oh, aye, ta." The man grumbles, lifting up a hand to rub against a pair of crow's feet at the corner of his right eye, wiping at it as he snorts, standing upright as his bottle and glass are delivered. He pours himself a glass, tipping it back. Albeit that he wears fancier clothes than would be expected for a man who probably smells like he's not showered in a few days, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "S'better.." So much of what the woman did was an act, yet she fell into each of her personas so easily that she had long ago forgotten who she really was. This was to Arissa benefit more often than not however, and she didn’t waste a lot of time thinking on it. She could be a hard woman, but these were hard times, but the easy manor in which she could smile spoke to the lightness that was still inside, not yet fully caste into darkness. The veiled eyes slowly shift starting from the odoriferous man with the droid that is closest to her to the shadows where a being oddly garbed seems to watch her. It was said beings dress that stuck out in Arissa’s mind, as in this area of town to look out of place was a feat. Yet, the person was alone and being left alone, so they were dangerous, crazy or both. The woman’s own eyes narrowed, the thin membrane sliding over them protecting her eyes from the burn of the smoke. The being isn't that oddly garbed. Spacer's clothing is fairly ubiquitous, in fact, though perhaps not here on the edge of Coruscant's under city. Then, too, it isn't often worn with a cloak. When those morning-colored eyes turn his direction, Ikihsa watches through dark goggles. She /has/ noticed him, then. He dips his head by way of greeting but remains where he's at. Juran snorts. Then grunts. He wriggles his nose a little as he pours himself another tall glass of lum, and pulls it up to gulp the liquid down. He pauses briefly afterwards to let out a belch, rumbling from the deep of his belly and out of his mouth. The Droid beeps once or twice, and he grins brightly down towards it. "Aye, mate. S'agood un', we aw know 'at. Ah'd pour y'adrink but ye'd short circuit n' probably end up mer' buggered up ahn' already, ya bastige." He taps the Droid with the tip of his boot, barking out a laugh as he pours a bit more lum, and takes another small swig, his tanned features now having a healthy, slightly-less-sober glow to them. As the little being offers a slight incline of his head, Arissa raises her glass in answer. And then lowers it no further than her lips. Taking another swallow she wrinkles her nose, used to the stench of hard work and the earthiness of sweat it still galled her that the fairly well dressed spacer to her side didn’t have the good sense or desire to bath. Turning her head she decides to lightly engage, “Holy Hutt. Do you need a credit for a bath?” "Ah'll take yer credit an' use it for another drink, iffin' thats what yer meaning.. I've been bloody cooped up inside of a shuttle fer a bloody age ahn' am' chokin' fer a drink. Bath can come later." Juran pauses, sniffing himself once. "Eh, ah've got used t'it. So it dun matter too much t'me now. Cept ah'll need to get me clothes put through t'washer.. A' really loike this jacket..." He mutters, tugging a crease out of the jacket with his fingertips as he sips his Lum again. Arissa scoffs at the grubby man beside her, looking for a moment at the droid he uses as a kick stop and then back to the man himself. “Now see, ya’ don’t get jobs or credits looking like that. Then she smiles a pretty smile, “Course, you’re the reason I get work and credits. Looking and smelling like ya do.” She then flips a credit towards the human. Again Arissa’s head turns as the shadowy being that was eying her has pushed his way though the crowd and saddled up to the bar. As he asks for a drink it is his voice she recalls, and it causes her to cock her head, “I’ve met you” she says, her voice almost accusatory. Juran's hand flicks out, faster than would be expected from an apparent drunkard, snatching the credit out of the air. He eyes it for a moment, then pushes it into his pocket. "I got rich so I dun 'avta wander bout' all fancy like. Ssapoint o' bein' rich iffin' you can't enjoy the finer things in life.." Another swift gulp of Lum, and a small burp. ".. Like gettin' smelly and drinkin bad lum." He then eyes Enb'Zik, sniffing once before giving the said individual a large grin. "Allo' there. 'owreya?" "Indeed you have," the Sullustan replies to Arissa simply while the tender places another ale on the counter by Ikihsa's hand. Though Enb'Zik doesn't identify his real name, the accent he'd carried when they'd last met is gone. A wry quip comes to Zik's mind in answer to the rudeness Arissa displays, but he holds it back. The pirate is more than able to fend for himself, and returning the woman's boorishness to her might be counterproductive. Ikihsa works his way around the end of the bar not far distant and back toward the pair before answering Juran. "I am well, thank you," he replies. "I trust the same holds true for you?" Many in polite society might consider the current way Arissa carried herself as rude, but then again member of polite society don’t often venture to this dive bar. Rudeness, vulgarity and physical confrontations were a way of life, be it for the pirate beside her or a mercenary like herself. Nodding slightly, she says nothing to the small humanoid as he address the pirate, pondering instead why the voice in her head was screaming. Left to gather that everything indeed does hold true for the male human -- or doesn't -- Ikihsa takes the man's departure from the conversation in stride and turns his attention back to Arissa. It seems such baseness isn't unexpected by the Sullustan to any degree. "So," Enb'Zik begins again, letting the word linger in the air between them. "You've met me." Adjusting her stance, the half-breed shifts her hips causing them to jut away from the Sullustan. “Yes, though you seemed different.” The words are carefully stated, as she mulls over how different he seemed. More confident now, though she doubted it had much to do with time or location. It was something else. She had paid no mind to the human and his droid and their sudden departure. Such things were common place, “And what brings you back to Coruscant? Not the architecture, least not here” Lifting his eyes toward the flashing signs and ferrocrete ceiling from behind the dark lenses of his goggles, Ikihsa lets a smile betray his amusement at the woman's words. "No, certainly not the architecture," he replies. Eyes back on her, he concedes, "Different, yes. Life changes people. Sometimes whether they wish for it or not." Those words carry certain meaning, and he watches this woman closely, searching for some response in her face, an expression that might tell whether her ability to touch the Force is a relatively recent one. The largest reaction the small man receives is an arched eyebrow and a lifting of her own drink to her lips. After taking a small sip, it would seem to register that while she looked to be drinking constantly, the liquid disappeared slowly. “It is not necessary to change. Survival is not mandatory. But if there is anything I know, I know this. If you're in a bad situation, don't worry it'll change. If you're in a good situation, don't worry it'll change” She was avoiding using the force, not that her limited skills would aid her in this setting. But the ever present voice that was her companion was rambling on about treachery. Ikihsa had expected the conversation to go in one direction, and that changed, too. Arissa's words, he realizes, are truth... from a certain point of view. Taking time to consider them, he lifts his glass to his mouth and drinks from it, breathing the scent of the hops and savoring it on his palate before he finally swallows. Unhurried, he lowers the glass, then nods slowly. "And your situation?" he asks in the end. "Is it good? Bad? Time for a change?" Pursing her lips, the woman cocks her head to the side slightly and regards the small drinking companion “You know” Arissa says, “You always seem to be asking probing questions.” She quirks another eyebrow and then looks out over the bar as she answers the question posed. “Always good when I’m being paid, always bad when I’m not. And there is always time for change.” "It's a habit that has its place," Enb'Zik concedes about his questions with a mild smile. He tilts his head at one of the woman's remarks, reminding himself that such a perspective is fairly common in places of this one's ilk. In the Force he perceives a current, though, at odds with his willingness to overlook it. "Florists don't get paid much, I'm afraid," he states, referring to the cover he'd held on his last visit and has not yet completely thrown aside. "Though, the art can be worth the sacrifice. Sometimes a thing of beauty is enough of a reward to validate the low salary." Again, he observes, though this time he chooses to do so over another drink from his tumbler, eyes averted thoughtfully. This was a game, a game of words and such plays were often time consuming. Arissa was a woman of patience something that came with the training she had as a sniper, but that was long ago and current events didn’t pay to kindly to the slow witted or indecisive thinkers. Bending slightly at her waist the woman leans towards the little man. Her voice low and throaty, her lips mere millimeters form Enb’Zik’s ear. ‘You’re as much a florist as I am a dancing girl” she says, a slight smile on her lips. This close she can almost feel his mood, her eyes watching for the expressions. Where Arissa is opting to avoid her ability to touch the Force, Enb'Zik has been trained to open his mind to his. To clear his own thoughts and listen to what it tells him. His downfall is in his inexperience. When Arissa comes close, he stills his mind, helped by years of military discipline and more years in one of the galaxy's harshest prisons. What she would sense is resolve, perhaps mingled with consideration -- his orders tell him one thing, and his sense of right and wrong concur with it. But he also has an increasingly bad feeling about this. "That may or may not be," he replies evenly. "Nevertheless, the fact remains that some virtues are their own reward." The opportunity is upon him to obey his orders and invite her to find out, yet the niggling sense of wrongness in the pit of his stomach makes him hold his tongue a while longer. The woman didn’t need the force to know he was lying to her in parts at least. She had spent the better parts of the last few years searching, and they years before that on the run she from the fields she was left for dead in. She suspected treachery at every turn; almost everyone she had trusted was dead or had tried to kill her. “Virtues don’t put food on the table, my good fellow” Arissa answers, leaning back to a normal posture. To long too close and people would start to watch. “Why are you looking for me?” It was a deduction based on his watching her, “Is there a job you have, or just taken by my stunning looks?” "Those with whom I associate do not go hungry unless we choose to," Enb'Zik reassures. Again, the moment is upon him to make the offer he's been sent with. In spite of the warnings he senses, the aberrant eddies within the swell of the Force, Ikihsa chooses orders over instinct. Surely Luke would not have sent him if any problems had not already been addressed. "I come as an emissary," he states plainly, dipping his head. "It is a job, yes, of sorts, but one that should not be spoken of here. If you are interested, we can discuss it further on board my ship. If you decide you are not interested, we will make sure you have dignified accommodations and timely transportation back to Coruscant." The sound that emanates from the woman is that of pure and unfiltered laughter. Throwing her head backwards, her hair bounces against her back and shoulders causing the beads in her hair to click with a rhythmic beat. Recovering, the woman puts her hand on the smaller man’s shoulder and with her free hand wipes a tear away from her eye. “Well” she starts once she has recovered, “Either you are the worst kidnapper on the planet or you are way out of your league in here” There is a honest smile on Arissa’s lips. “I’m to step alone onto an unknown ship, to discuss a deal?” The hand on Zik’s shoulder squeezes, “You must be joking?” As the woman breaks into her mirthful -- and somewhat loud -- eruption, Enb'Zik casts his goggled gaze around the room to see what attention she's drawn from others. His eyes go to her hand on his shoulder next, but his expression remains calm. Looking back to her face, he presses his lips into as thin a line as a Sullustan can manage. Nodding curtly then, he concurs. "And so I am," he states. He is confident enough in himself and his own experience not to be bothered by her vaguely insulting words, but his resolve on bringing her back to Ord Mantell is wavering. At least now he can tell Luke he offered. With a shallow bow of his head, Enb'Zik takes a step backward, preparing to depart. "I know where we can speak" Arissa says in a language not her own, and with a nod to the bartender she pushes herself off the bar top starts off towards the darkest corner of the bar. She could feel his wavering mood, the internal conflict raging with in him. "I can promise you, no one will over hear us" Yet that didn't tell her much about his intent. Instead, it leads to more doubt. The young woman had more than one life lesson in betrayal and she was not about to let it happen again. But she had felt something different in the man when they first met; she wanted to know what that was. It was familiar. (speaking in Sullustese) Yet, in the corner it is Enb'Zik who would be most in endangered. This is, after all, an Imperial planet, and what he has to reveal would not be well-taken by the Empire. Or Vassily Korolov. Or Tyler Damion. Stormtroopers, he realizes, aren't likely to be seen on this level of the planet's underworld. The latter pair, though... would not hesitate if this woman is indeed associated with them. "No," Enb'Zik replies in his native tongue. "It is not safe here. My offer stands as it is. Or if I leave alone tonight, I suspect you'll know how to find me." He dips his head and begins turning to leave. (speaking in Sullustese) Stopping just a few feet away from him she places her hands on her hips, her face grows dark. Switching back to basic, “Then you leave alone, and I don’t know where or care to find you. The last time I arranged such a meeting, it didn’t work out so well” there was little humor in her voice and she opened her mind, not to the force per say, but she allowed her memories to ‘leak’ into the departing form’s own conscious. Some one with more skill could project the images, Arissa however just let the true flashes be seen. *Images of her landing on Bespin, and Korolov stepping out of the shadows. Images of her fighting for her life, the feelings of terror. Images of her bloodied and beaten as he toyed with her. And finally an image of her desperate gambit to flee, and his mocking laugh as she escaped. At the moment Arissa speaks behind him, Enb'Zik senses the images on her mind through the Force and pauses. To those without their abilities, he would seem to be wavering, but he harbors no doubt now about the woman's nescient abilities. Taking a breath and steeling himself against the flood of negative imagines, he lets the air in his lungs go out slowly and calmly. A hand slips into a pocket in his outer robes, and in return for her memories, he sends a feeling to her of warmth and peace. It is the tender tranquility of a quiet mountainside, far from the city and boorish civilization, and it lingers softly like a soothing balm in counterpoint to the woman's harsh past. When he speaks, his voice is quieter, "I know your life does not lend itself to trusting those whom you do not know." In spite of the mental images portraying her as a victim, he still suspects something wrong. But hope... hope makes him try anyway. Turning, he looks at her over his shoulder, and with another wave of calm asks in one word: "Try?" Again the Echani and Firrerreo blood in her veins breeds mixed messages. At Enb’Zik own projections she finds the warmth and peace unnerving, as she had not felt such emotions in a long time. Chaos, conflict, deception and the constant search was the life she knew and had grown comfortable with. She was in a place where she no longer feared her death, yet enjoyed the object pleasures that came with living. In was in these moments that Arissa did hesitate. And in those moments, the ever present voice in her head. The nightsister’s force echo slammed her mind shut. The voice buried deep does what ever it can to protect itself in Arissa’s mind, like a powerful parasite feeding off its host. The incantations fill the woman’s mind but they also steal her resolve. Slowly she steps forward and moves very close to the Enb’Zik, as she reaches him her blaster appears in her hand, and she jams the muzzle into his lower back, just under his ribs. “Lead on” she says, her voice soft and sweet, in stark contrast to the moment. Well, this is a fun turn of events. Even as Arissa starts to move toward him, the surge of darkness in her mind wells toward the Sullustan. There is a vague feeling of danger, as well, that grows quickly and hones itself into a fine point the moment her fingers close around the hilt of her blaster. When its barrel touches his back, Enb'Zik tips his head back and narrows his eyes. "I'm so glad you've decided to see things my way," he answers cooly. Most of the room's other occupants would have no way to see the weapon pressed into his robes, given their proximity. Focusing himself, putting aside negative thoughts of what may happen, Ikihsa keeps his gaze on the woman steadily. "We'll need to pay the tabs, of course," he points out. "I hear these places can get rough when you don't take care of your bill. Probably wouldn't want anyone following us out, hmm?" “The tab was taken care of the moment we locked eyes.” Arissa answers the man. “See, while this is a new step for you, I am known here and the bartender is as much a friend as my credits can buy. So, consider the drinks on me” Giving the blaster a small push, the woman nudges Enb’Zik forward. “You wanted to talk right? So lets go” For Arissa this was not about the Force nor was it a mission. It was about being alone and unprotected, it was about finding answers in a sea of lies. The thought of answers sprang an emotion one wouldn’t expect, and the only one that would sense it in the room was the man who she held at blaster point. The most dangerous of all the emotions, Hope. Inwardly, Enb'Zik nods to himself as more information comes to light. If the situation weren't so serious, he might even give the tender a tip of his head. Now definitely is not the time, however. Obviously. Pushed into a pair of short, stumbling steps, the Sullustan rolls one shoulder in a shrug and nods outwardly. "As you wish, then," he utters. Taking a step forward -- far enough to reveal her blaster to other watchers if she isn't careful -- he begins walking toward the door, folding his hands behind him casually, and in plain sight. Had anyone in the bar seen the blaster, they wouldn’t have intervened, as they didn’t want their business interfered with either. Such was the way of life in a dive smuggler bar. As they reached the street however, it would cause a stir. Moving to the side of Enb’Zik, Arissa drapes her arm over the lower shoulders of her hostage. Shifting her blaster to Enb’zik’s side she walked in step with him and a close as a lover. This way no one would look sideways except to notice the interspecies pair. Arriving at the spaceport Arissa speaks for the first time since the bar, “Which one? As the two walk, Enb'Zik makes use of the opportunity to rid himself of fear, in spite of the blaster. The one negative thought he cannot put away, though, is the sense of misdirection -- that things are going in a manner they shouldn't be. The difficulty he finds now is pinning down what /is/ the problem. He could blame it on the blaster, but he has already accepted that fact as part of his situation. He's been in harsher ones, and he truly is able to put his fear of the device aside. He is pondering all of this when Arissa speaks up, and he tips his head toward a Chameleon light freighter docked halfway across the hangar. "That one," he answers. Nodding her head Arissa’s nictitating third eyelids slide away from her eyes and allow her violet irises to take in the distance and the hanger. “Ok, lets go” Arissa knew the danger at hand, but knew there was little she could do once she entered the ship. Her biggest concern had been being jumped on the streets, if this yet unnamed man had a trap planned on the freighter itself, there was little a single blaster would change. Moving away from him and towards the ship, Arissa slides the blaster back into its holster. Her long strides carry her to the ship quickly. As the blaster is put away, Enb'Zik visibly dips his head in approval. It's as if without words, he is saying that's better -- almost paternally. He'd had no traps planned, though he would have defended himself if the time had come to make it necessary. Crossing the hangar bay with her, Ikihsa reaches up and keys the entry code into the ship's control panel outside. Initially, nothing happens, but with a subtle move of his left hand, followed by another short pause, the hatch unseals, and the ramp begins to lower. Immediately revealed is a warbling R6 unit. "Thank you, Befive," Enb'Zik remarks toward the astromech up in the ship's heart, then motions toward the ship's entrance with a flourish. "You'll want me to go first, I'm sure," he predicts. Watching the ramp as it lowers to the ground, the woman is mildly surprised by the Astromech. Her own companion had been left with the Violent Spark, and her associates. Enb’Zik’s voice breaks her mental reprieve and a wry smile crosses Arissa’s lips and she nods her head in affirmation. She allows the ships owner to make his way up the ramp and after he takes a few steps she follows. Again, a sense of tranquility seems to surround Enb'Zik as he enters the ship. He turns his back to Arissa as he goes, and noting her initial response to the astromech, he introduces the little droid, "This is R6-B5. R6... this is Arissa, the woman I had hoped might trust us enough to come with us." The small automaton whistles a greeting, and Ikihsa walks past and into the ship's main room before he turns around to watch her follow. If Arissa was becoming more at ease, Enb’Zik’s introduction to the small R6 which she was sure had the same kind of "do it all" attitude in its programming and array of gadgets reminiscent of her own R2 unit that quickly evaporated with the mention of her first name. Most that sought to hire her, knew her as Captain Kiiko and many of her own crew didn’t know her first name. She was sure she hadn’t told him in there first meeting, as she still didn’t know his. “I see you have done some research on me” she says coolly, her hand moving over the conical-frustum style of the head of the droid. “So, tell me friend. What else do you know? But please start with you name.” Her tone while still cool and clam left no room to question if it was a request, for it was not. Before Enb'Zik says anything more than "One moment," however, he takes time to touch the controls of the Chameleon, causing the hatch to begin rising again. And when it's closed, he makes sure it's sealed. And locked. He works methodically and patiently, seemingly without concern for her insistence, or the blaster he knows she still possesses. Finishing with that, Ikihsa pauses and begins to remove the goggles that had kept his face partially concealed. Laying them atop a table, he next prepares to remove the robe he's been wearing. He hangs that against one bulkhead, and the bulkiness of his clothing underneath suggests he's wearing armor underneath it. It might be the reason he seems unworried by the weapon she's been carrying. Finally, he turns to the woman once again. "My name is Ikihsa Enb'Zik," he states simply. That alone will tell Arissa more about him than he currently knows regarding her -- pilot, former swooper, former Senator, now a member of Leia Organa-Solo's cabinet. And a Jedi. He has never hidden any of these aspects of his life from the media or the public. He adds, "I assure you, I've done very little research. I apologize if my knowing your name has startled you." Watching the Sullustan tend to the ship with methodical movements, Arissa starts to tap her foot with impatience. Her hips shift again and while she hears the ramp close and lock she doesn’t turn around. Waiting was something Arissa was best at when she was looking though the sight of a sniper rifle, not while she was interviewing for a job. This was all she thought this might be, that was of course until her freighter pilot spoke. My name is Ikihsa Enb'Zik," is what he had said, and already the little she knew of the man told her volumes. Never one to follow the swoop leagues, she did however keep up on current events. He was a hero of the Republic or a Criminal to the Empire. That fact alone was curious, but his last statement brought the voice in her head screaming to life. The incantation in her mind just kept repeating itself over and over. Outwardly Arissa remained composed, comfortable with her internal second voice. “Then I doubt you need some of my more…expensive talents.” Cocking her head she had sensed that connection with him at their first meeting, “I don’t often go by my familiar name, but tell me Master Jedi, what is it you want of me?” Ikihsa has learned over the years to listen until a person is done speaking before he begins answer them. He is as patient for the woman to finish as he had been while working on the hatch. To her statement regarding her work, he shakes his head, "I have no more need for your weapon than you do inside this ship. However, I am no Master, by far. My training barely exceeds your own." Enb'Zik does not think, at this point, that Arissa has had any training at all. But by mentioning her 'own' he indicates the crux of his being here -- that he believes she has the ability to touch the Force. He watches her face for reaction during the span of a pause before going on. "When I met you during the Imperial Gala, I sensed an ability in you. You know the one I'm speaking of. I fear you are in a very dangerous place right now." One should have expected shock, or at the very least a denial or even an admittance instead what Enb’Zik received was laughter. Shaking her head, the woman closes her eyes for a moment only to open them again when the bout subsided. “You fear for me?” she questioned. “And you suspect I have training in to this mystic art do you?” She did have some formal training, and loads of informal most of which came at the guidance of the voice in her head. But no one knew about that, and she wasn’t going offer it up. Arissa knew enough of the Jedi, much of which coming from an expelled youngling, never selected to be a padawan. She had killed that man for her own freedom, the basics of the force she learned through him. He had boasted a great many powers, like the power to read minds. She wondered if Enb’Zik could do that. “An Imperial Warlord tried to kill me. Do you know why Jedi?” She doubted he did, but she would let him guess. Bravado is so typical of types found in places like he'd found Arissa that he looks past her laughter as being just that. "I suspect that you have no training," he answers, crossing his arms over his chest. "And I can only guess why an Imperial Warlord would want you dead. Unfortunately, we don't have time for me to guess." Now that Arissa is here, Ikihsa's one remaining goal is to find out whether she is willing to take up his offer, or to get him off his ship so that he may leave if she is not. Answering her own question "Because, I used to be an Imperial Scout Trooper, a sniper. And once in the employ of the Galactic Empire, always shall you be." Arissa stated it with a shrug, as if her impending death was of little real concern. She was handing out bits of truth about herself, ones that could be known or held little weight should the wrong people find out. "So it seems all flags want me. The Empire for desertion, the Republic for my past (she makes a gesture towards Zik) and now even the Jedi." These factors had never been an issue for the enterprising young woman. Breathing in deeply, "So, I'm here and you're in a hurry. How can I be of service?" Ikihsa doesn't appear to show any surprise at Arissa's admission. In fact, though her position as a former Scout is new information, that she was employed by the Empire is not. "The Sith," he refers to Korolov, whom he suspects of being the Warlord, "are impossible masters to serve. You would not be the first to leave the employ of the Empire, nor would you be the last. At this time, I am little inclined to be concerned about the Republic's desire for you, but even so, you would have less to fear from them than from the Empire." He watches the woman's long breath, then answers her final question, "The Jedi -- and specifically, Luke -- are here simply because we have seen your ability to touch the Force. It will only make you more of a target for Venger and Malign. I am here to find out whether you will accompany me to Ord Mantell to speak with Luke regarding the position in which you've found yourself." The woman listens to the Jedi state his desires and when he finishes Arissa looks at him for what seems like a long moment. Her face had showed no recognition at the names Venger or Malign in fact her brow was knitted with thought. Bringing both hands up to her face she rubs her eyes and face. When she is finishes they striking young woman looks tired. Looking away from the Jedi, she turns to the droid. “What do you think R-6?” It was an odd almost child like gesture. Of course this was exactly what her master had wanted, as she had said. – I will lie as if wounded. Then enemies will approach, and yet I will lie quite still. And then my enemies will take little bites, and yet I remain still. She would poison from within, and all the while they would try and save her. “It appears I have no choice. Or that all I am left with is the illusion of choice” "My intentions are honorable," Enb'Zik states. "You know who I am, and you could make it very difficult for me right now to get off this planet. Nevertheless, you may decline my invitation, and I will open the hatch, and you may return to your life of running from the Empire and hoping the Sith do not catch up with you. I'm afraid it doesn't sound like much of a choice, but it is not a decision I will make for you." To underscore his point, Enb'Zik returns to the egress controls and raises a hand to them, prepared to unseal it. Again Arissa takes a deep breath in through her mouth and exhales it through her nose. “I was always told the Jedi can’t lie – I’m not sure how much I believe that, But I will go with you.” Pushing her fingers together she cracks her knuckles and adds feeling that this Luke could only be the in/famous Luke Skywalker, “And I’m free to go no matter what results from my meeting with Master Skywalker? I have your personal oath?” "You have my personal oath," Enb'Zik replies. Though he is aware of no creed that the Jedi can never lie, his word has always meant something to him, and he will back it up if need be. "I will escort you from Republic space myself if need be." Arissa nods, and then waves her hand. "I will hold you to that. Let's go, before someone comes looking for us both"
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