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Outside the Aldera Ballet, an old frieghter lumbered, as well as a pair of fighters known as "Uglies", unlikely amalgams of old model TIE fighters, melded with pieces of X, Y, A and B-wings.
"Like, you got it," Freya said, her hand reaching to her holster, her fingertips brushing the grip of her Bespin security sidearm.
"Understood, Master Gorwooken," Rusty replied, going to Aurora.

Gorwoonen looked to Freya, and said "[If you can, send them a message permitting them to board. They're less likely to do a lot of damage to the ship if they think we're going peacefully.]" With any luck, that would work, and the Trandoshans would board soon after she transmitted.

((I had to go to a wedding this weekend and yesterday was a little well, looooooooooooooong. My mom bought some new furniture and my friend and I helped her rearange everything. My dad got home and pitched a fit yelling and screaming at us, I even woke up this morning to the sound of him still yelling at my mom. I sincerely apoligize.

Celestia, Elvis, I'm soo sorry.))

Aurora woke up when Freya did and followed her to the cockpit. When Gorry and Freya left she sat down in the pilots seat. She reached over and hit the comm button. "This is the Aldera Ballet we would like to give you permission to board our ship, after all we have nothing to hide,' she said trying to sound diplomatic.

Down by the river stood a spacer's pub that certainly had seen better days.
Mucth of the outside was weathered by sun and rain, then marred by the vandals that were so common to Ord Mantell. local ivy crept up the side and only half the building's sign still lit up at night.
This was the Dead Space, one of the older, though certainly not the oldest, Cantinas on Ord Mantell. It had seen its share of trials and tribulations over the decades its stood: gunfights, barfights, bounty hunters, financial woes, the Vong, rowdy drunks, and raids from the militant wing of the local Prohibition movement.
Now it was facing something real troublesome.
Gangsters.
"Listen my friend." Spoke a pale skinned Twi'lek garbbed in a sharp buisness suit. "My Employer, Gordo, really does have his heart set on this place. And the price he's offering really is generous."
The angry proprietor seethed at the thug, and almost certainly would have shot the twi'lek had he not brought with him four Gamorrean Guards.
"This is my Brother's Bar!" The dark haired woman snapped at the thug. "And when he comes home this bar will still be here! Not turned into some greasy hutt's spice den!"
The Twi'lek chuckled and adjusted his Lekku on his shoulder. "Ms. Corran, you do realize the war is over don't you? The Galactic Alliance lost. And your brother is probably a rotting corpse on a battlefield somewhere. He isn't comming back. So why not save yourself the effort of running this cantina, take the money we offered, and find a nice place somewhere else for you and your little sibling." He eyed the child huddling in fright behind the young woman and added "While he's still alive."
Veira Corran's eyes narrowed and she stepped more visibly between Gordo's thugs and her little brother. "You wouldn't dare. Lay one hand on Dack and I'll kill you."
The twi'lek sighed in irritation. "Damn Corellians. They're so stubborn."
He looked back at Sayla, smiling a mouth full of filed teeth."Looks like we'll have to give you a sample of what's gonna happen if you don't take up our offer."
He nodded to the Gamorrean on his immediate right. "Grakk, I'm feeling particularly heavy handed tonight. Do me a favor and rough the kid up. And the woman if she gets in your way."
The Gamorrean grinned. The Gamorean grunted in his porcene tongue. He drew a stun baton and flicked it on, filling the air with a menacing hum.
"Pardon the intrusion, is the Bar open?" A voice called from the door.
Everyone in the room turned in suprise to face the newcomer.
Leaning on his staff, Link looked quizzically around the room.
"Is the traveler interupting anything?" He asked.
The Twi'lek gave the man an annoyed glare. "We're in the middle of negotiating a very important buisness deal. So if you could come back later, that would be great."
Link blinked. "With Gamorreans and Stun Batons?"
"Cantina Opperators Guild stuff. Complicated." The twil'ek said.
"Ah. Then this one won't keep you." Link said as he turned and left out the door.

(I went ahead and deleted that post. I was posting under the assumption that it was sveral hours later, but...)

Elshaeke'nen'etnaruodo woke up the next morning a little uneasy. For the past few nights, he'd dreamt of his home, far away in Csilla; over 1000 parsecs from Wayland. He hadn't been home in years... He shook his head. One day he'd be home, and welcomed back as a hero. His greatest dream was to be like his cousin, and at least attempt to bring order to the Galaxy, and he was staunchly convinced his was the best way, by joining the Empire. He argued to himself that by joining the Emmpire, he was in fact helping the Ascendancy and progressing his own people.

Once he was dressed, he made his way downstairs to review the week's crop yields, and the maintenance at Mt. Tantiss.

(( Poor Link. ;__; ))

A Corellian Corvette pulled alongside the Aldera Ballet, with a pair of "Uglies" flitting about. Freya snarled, indignant at such a fine old ship being bastardised by such space scum. "Like, here they come," she whispered to Aurora and Gorwooken. "Be, like, totally ready!"