Galaxy's Edge Space Bar

[Terenia]

Dalik starts as Sorin darts away, then jumps clear out of her stool when he fires what is clearly a Shredder, mere feet from where Jorek is standing. "By the Kandrona," she hisses. <<Do patrons do anything other than try to murder one another here!?>>

By the time Sorin returns, Dalik is swiping away her holoscreens and shoving her computer cube into her holster. "Do you have any idea what you just almost did?" she demands, voice shrill. Without waiting for an answer, she stalks towards the small group. The felled Hork-Bajir is being tended to by Ossanlin, and one of the human-esque patrons is comically lifting him. Dalik pays none of them mind, instead wrapping one hand around Jorek's bicep in a vice grip.

"You are leaving. Now," she says, flushing a little at the clear demand in her tone, nevertheless trying to direct him to the door.


At the sound of a shot, William looks up, eyes scanning the bar. "Well I'll be damned," he murmurs as one of the big, bladed creatures falls to the ground. "I need to get one of those." His words are heard by no one, though. Al is already gone, rushing to the creature's side.

Frowning, William inches closer to get a better view of the carnage, but the Hork-Bajir is whisked away.

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin glances at Forlin, nodding.  <That may be useful, Forlin.  You may follow if you wish.>  He, himself quickly follows Al out the bar door and toward his ship.  He shouldn't be surprised that the android already knows the Mirage's location.  He unlocks it remotely and clears the security measures so that Al and Nepek don't get attacked upon entry.  He breaks into a trot, and then into a gallop as Al, who appears to be walking, is actually moving at an almost sprint pace.  Nepek's body is held supremely stable despite the quick movement around him.  Ossanlin shakes his head a bit...Al is a remarkable machine to say the least.

As he follows Al into the ship, he commands the medical suite to reactivate.  It had last been used to repair Joanne's sliced carotid artery, and though that wound had been fatal without medical attention, it had been far less grave than the injury sustained by Nepek.  <Put him on the lev-table...>  Ossanlin starts to say but sees that Al is already doing that.  Under the bright lights of the lev-table, the injury looks that much worse.  So much of the Hork-Bajir's internals have been fried or vaporized that it's hard to tell what's what...not that that was an easy job in the first place.  Ossanlin isn't a medical expert, and while he knows how biology works in general and has field-medic training, he has only a basic understanding of xenobiology like humans and Hork-Bajir.

Ossanlin immediately engages 'pressor' fields to slow and stop all of the bleeding that hadn't been immediately cauterized by the dracon itself.  <Nepek...Nepek can you hear me?  Blink twice for 'yes.'>  Ossanlin watches closely, giving the Hork-Bajir a strong pain suppressant, a stalk-eye moving up to look at Al.  <<I hope your boss has some sort of miracle stuffed in that ship of yours.  I may be able to keep him alive for a bit, but he's lost a lot of important pieces.>>

[Forlin]

Forlin was the last one out the door, backing out with his shredder still trained on the attacker.  As he got outside, he turned around, a stalk-eye on the door.  He followed Ossanlin to his ship.  As they were entering the ship, he placed a hand to Nepek, focusing.  The Hork-Bajir would go into the acquiring trance, allowing Forlin to make his DNA a part of his own.

Forlin retreated to a corner of the ship as the others were getting to work, and began to morph.  <What organs is his missing?  I'm morphing–maybe you could take them from my morph?>  He was terrified, and that caused him to lose focus on the morphing process a few times.  But within about three minutes he was a fully genetic copy of the Hork-Bajir.  His first ever Hork-Bajir morph, in fact, and he was surprised at how gentle its instincts were.

[guitarhero01234]

Nepek doesn't seem to have any sort of reaction to being lifted up by Al, nor does he offer any sign to Ossanlin that he's even alive, let alone conscious. The only sign of life from the Hork-Bajir is the slow, rhythmic rising and falling of his chest, indicating that he's at least still breathing. Even with a Hork-Bajir's almost supernatural ability to heal its own wounds, this was far too great an injury for even a healty Hork-Bajir to even begin to recover from on his own, and it's very clear that Nepek is far past his prime. The bleeding stops fairly quickly, though, due to a combination of Ossanlin's medical attention and the beginnings of flesh already starting to slowly form around the hole.


Sorin doesn't bother to answer the questions directed at him by the Bar's other patrons. Why the hell do they care so much? Especially with Nepek's incendiary personality, it's not likely that he managed to make any friends. And it's not like Sorin possesses any danger to anyone else - to their knowledge at least. For all anybody else knew, he had no reason to attack anybody else. Yet, those two Andalites trained their weapons on him as if he was about to start shooting everybody in the whole place! These people make no sense, he concludes to himself.

Shrugging it off, Sorin returns to his soda without giving another thought to the matter.

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin glances at Forlin, including only the other Andalite and Al in his private speech.  It wouldn't do any good to let Nepek hear just how bad his wound really is.  <<I'm not a xenobiologist....it looks like he lost nearly all of one of his hearts, I'm guessing a part of the fermentory stomach, a large section of the spinal column...>>  Ossanlin's voice falls off as he continues to regard the Hork-Bajir on the lev-table.  The Hork-Bajir has lost more than that...but which organs and their actual functions remains a mystery to him.  The flesh itself is beginning to regenerate a bit...but to rebuild all that had been lost would be incredibly difficult for his body.  Possible?  Perhaps, the limits of the Hork-Bajir body are not fully known to him, but he gestures Forlin over.

<<To try and rebuild the network of muscles, neurons, vessels, and tissues might be possible for a skilled Hork-Bajir medical expert, if such an individual even exists.  But to try and piecemeal it back together...>>  He pauses.  <<And besides, it wouldn't do to start harvesting organs from you and have the unthinkable happen.  But we can give him supportive care...>>  The Mirage could generate synth blood, but it would take time to fully analyze and reproduce a substance similar enough to Nepek's own blood in order to be a suitable replacement.  Genuine blood, and not only that, but the Hork-Bajir's own blood would be useful.  It could also provide the elder Hork-Bajir with extra energy and material to try and repair his horribly damaged body on his own.

[Myitt]

Jorek grimaces at Dalik, suppressing the instinct to wrench his arm away from her grip.

"I've seen plenty of Dracon fire, in my time, child," he says with mild annoyance, before finally tugging his arm free with a swift movement.

He patiently straightens his rumpled uniform and brushes the sleeve.

[Leona]

"I jus' go' lucky." Leona answer, though her voice began to sound strangely distant. Those emerald eyes gazed blankly at the drink in her hand, looking lost within her memories as she spoke. "I guess some andalites were dumb enough to try and infiltrate the yeerk's host breeding station. Nxion one two one was feeding at the time, fortunately. I managed to escape... And over load the station's power core..." It sounded almost as though the auburn haired human were trying to make a major event out to be no big deal. The destruction of an imperil station was no small feat, let alone surviving. Clearly she had to be leaving out a significant amount of detail.

Before Leona could say much else, or Jeffrey had a chance to ask for details, the sound of a shredder blast broke the relative peace of the bar. To any that might have glanced back towards the redhead after the sound, it would have looked like the human women had vanquished. Having dropped off her bar stool, Leona could be found hunkered down by the bar. Having drawn the dracon beam that had been hidden in her hoody she held it ready. In an instant the nervous, timid female seemed to have turned into a hardened warrior.

[Terenia]

"Maybe so, but that doesn't mean you need to seek it out," Dalik hisses. "What, by the Kandrona, do you think you're doing, turning up at a place like this? And having conversations with Andalites!"


"A good time to make an exit," William decides. He eyes the remaining patrons of the bar, then slips through the front door.

The wounded creature has already been taken into one of the strange airships, and William is met with silence as he steps into the cool air. A moment of consideration passes, then he turns towards the makeshift parking lot. His boots crunch over gravel as he weaves through the ships. He isn't sure exactly what he is looking for, but a few paces in he pauses.

Closing his eyes, he reaches out with his mind. Not alone, he realizes. Nearby he can sense the minds of several people. Three, at least, as he has trouble picking out one mind from the next. At least one is angry, the emotion burning red against the back of his eyelids.

"Hm," he murmurs. He considers going over to the small group, but then opts to skirt around them, continuing to explore the shipyard.


The bathing-suit clad man returns from the bathroom, looking a bit more pale than when he disappeared. A glance at the still-growing pile of food turns his skin gray again. Clearing his throat, he forces his gaze away, instead surveying the bar.

A frown etches into his features as he realizes that there has been an exodus in his absence. Almost everyone Jorek was speaking with -- including the two Andalites -- are gone. He is alone, save a teenaged girl he doesn't recognize. Sniffing, he wrinkles his nose at the familiar stench of burning flesh.

Instead of approaching Jorek, the man straightens his Hawaiian shirt and approaches Sorin, smiling pleasantly. "Excuse me," he says, speaking Galard in a generic American accent. "I seem to have missed something while I was in the bathroom. What...exactly just happened?"

[Aluminator (Kit)]

Al does what he can to assist Ossanlin-- mostly this consists of not getting in the way. The Mirage is Ossanlin's ship, after all, and the War-Prince knows his way around it.

Though he's just carried the badly-injured Hork-Bajir in his arms, his body and clothes appear free of blood. His face may be just a projection, but all color seems to have drained out of it. And at Ossanlin's suggestion that Salem had better be bringing 'a miracle,' Al's tight-lipped frown betrays just how little hope he has for this particular case.


Salem rummages through his ship, grumbling. It's not til he thinks back on Al's tone that his sense of urgency really begins to kick in. He winds up stuffing a few objects in his cloak's various pockets, opening a large blue-and-black medical bag, sticking a large jug-like object on top, picking the whole mess up by its twin canvas-esque handles, and starting for the open hatchway. Just before he leaves, he pauses, shaking his head at himself, and turns around. A few seconds and a few thought-speak commands later, and the ship's interior walls have lit up and brought up a display showing the exact position of Ossanlin's craft outside. This in mind, Salem heads down the ramp and walks as quickly as he can. He hoists the big, heavy, awkward bag onto his shoulders and breaks, hunched under the weight, into a near-jog.

It takes him less than a minute to reach the Mirage, and he heads inside without slowing down. "No doctors in this dump, I take it?" he gasps snarkily as he walks up to Ossanlin. Al stands beside the War-Prince, and there's what appears to be a morphing Andalite in the corner. Morphing to Hork-Bajir, maybe?

And then he catches sight of the Hork-Bajir on the lev-table, and his breath catches in his throat. His heavy bag clanks to the deck beside him. "Nerphid help us," he breathes quietly, not even realizing he's spoken aloud.

This is an exceptionally bad injury. There's an enormous hole through the creature's body. Where there should be bones, organs, flesh... there's nothing. Burn marks around the wound, though minimal, and it looks to be clean, at least, not the shredded mess one sees with explosives or matter-based weaponry. Thank Thaum for that, at least. There's not a lot of blood, and it looks as though Ossanlin's already applied something similar to his own force bandage technology.

He's seen people recover from worse... though not much worse, and never without immediate professional medical attention. They'll be lucky if they can keep this poor creature alive for five more minutes, let alone save him.

An image flashes through Salem's mind. Ossanlin. The very Andalite beside whom he's standing. Lying in the dirt. Blood pouring from his breathing slits. Both legs broken, badly enough that the War-Prince's shattered bones are clearly visible. Ossanlin's foggy mental state. His delirium and the onset of shock. His obvious, excruciating pain, kept in check almost exclusively through the supernatural intervention of a bizarre four-armed being. The Andalite's blood, pooling around him, while Salem works feverishly to keep the War-Prince alive for just one more minute.

Al kneels beside Salem and opens the medical bag. He sets the weird jug down beside it and digs out a little, cylindrical container of some glistening, silvery fluid. With one hand, he pulls out a syringe and draws some of the fluid into it from the cap of the container.

"Salem," he says, sharply but gently. The word appears to shake Salem from his daydream. Salem takes the syringe from Al and places his hand on the Hork-Bajir's neck, feeling along for something in particular.

"What've you already given him?" he asks Ossanlin, though his eyes never leave the Hork-Bajir's neck. "Do we have any medical facilities or personnel available?" His fingers appear to find what he's looking for-- a particular vein-- and he plunges the syringe's needle into it, gently and expertly releasing the fluid into the Hork-Bajir's bloodstream.

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin watches the displays intently as the Hork-Bajir's lifesigns show signs of weakening further.  <Analine.  To offset the shock.  I'm going to have to resort to synthetic adrenaline soon.  Forlin is morphing Nepek so we can harvest blood to help replace and repair what he's lost.  If we don't get circulation restored to his lower body soon...>  Ossanlin doesn't finish the sentence, watching as Salem injects a fluid into the Hork-Bajir's neck.  The nanites, most likely...probably the same ones he's proffered to Ossanlin once upon a time in trade for something or other.

[Shenmue654]

"Well, it's not entirely a surprise that you've heard of us," Keshin says with a casual smile. Considering he's talking to what could easily be a very powerful Imperial. "That said, you'll need to be a bit more specific, and perhaps be in another place when----"

A cold sweat runs down Keshin's spine as they hear the sound of a Shredder firing, and he turns around in shock. The cranky Hork-Bajir Seer had dropped dead on the ground, his guts spilling onto the Bar's immaculate wood floor. Ossanlin is the first person to move. He also has that medical ship. Ossanlin can act fast enough. Keshin tries to pull himself into motion after the War-Prince, but he is too slow. The other Andalite and Al the crazy Android are out the door long before he can react. Keshin facepalms and curses his hesitation. In an actual dangerous situation this behavior would absolutely get him killed. <<Am I that shaken up from that last attack? Ridiculous.>>

<<We choked. It happens. Let me play ball for a while, okay?>>

Keshin lets go and falls backward into the empty space of Joanne's mind. Joanne rubs her neck uncomfortably and notices that the Hawaiian shirt man has shown up and started talking to...the killer. Joanne squirms and immediately walks over there, trying to angle herself between them. She has no idea what to say to the guy that **** Jorek wants to kill, but she doesn't want someone else to die within five seconds of the last one. What comes out of her mouth to him is, "It's no problem. Somebody---- This guy right here--- jus' tried to kill th' Hork'Bajir in the room for no flippin' reason." She threw up her arms. "The others went to try an' save his life. Not complicated."

All the while, the Bartender's impassive expression hasn't changed at all. Nepek's blood, guts, and entrails slowly seep into the somehow untouched floor into the cracks in between the boards.
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Jeffrey whistles as he looks over at the girl with a hint of admiration. He straightens up a bit. "Woooo! That's a hell of a thing you managed to pull, dear! I'd bet you'd be freaking fantastic in an Engageme----"

Jeffrey looks up from his conversation with a startled look, and then a grin, at the sound of spaceman gunfire. He's unable to make out exactly what the situation was, but of course the blue deer was heroically first out the door! "Captain Righteous the Liberator!" Jeffrey crows with a bit of a laugh. "If you are in need the blue furry butt of justice will be there! Or somesuch." Jeffrey pauses, and then walks forward with seemingly no regard for any threat to his own life, undaunted by the chaos. He looks back towards where Leona was and frowns. "Hey, sweet thing? You still alive back there? I was gonna go check this wild **** out if you want to come with."
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Mar holds up his hands as Myitt points the welding torch at him, mildly exasperated. "Precious, I'm not here to cause you any harm."

He looks awkwardly over at Salem, and smiles slightly. He was actually happy to hear that his gift had been of some value. "I came by to---" But a sound, an alarming sound, comes over the air, and Salem has a conversation with what's probably his robot friend. Mar closes his eyes and breathes, trying to resist the urge to follow the trail of an imminent death to its source. It's not time. There's still a chance. Others have a claim first. But it occurred to him that there was another reason he should go. The group there might benefit from his aid, and he could use this to stay centered given the feeling running through him.

Mar then opens his eyes and looks over at Myitt. Salem had left for the attack, and she looked afraid. Why hadn't she left? "Dearie, are you quite alright? Normally you would be all over this. I'm going over in moments to see if there's anything I can do to help."

[guitarhero01234]

Nepek twitches very slightly when the syringe goes into his neck, but doesn't move after that. He can hear voices as if from far away, but can't make out a single word. Where was he . . . what even happened? Something involving an old friend? And what's this incredible pain that seems to be cutting through the foggy veil that seemed to be thrown over all other senses? Am I dead? Before Nepek can even wrap his head around the hundreds of incoherent thoughts going through his mind, his eyes close and he slips into unconsciousness,  leaving his slow, steady breathing and the faint beating of his remaining hearts the only sign of life.


"Oh, don't worry," Sorin says with a glance at everybody still left in the Bar, finally stopping at the man in the Hawaiian shirt. "It was just a little quarrel between old colleagues that I wanted to put an end to. Can we not leave it at that?"

[Terenia]

The curly-haired man raises an eyebrow. "So this is your doing?" he asks, catching another whiff of burnt flesh. It's almost enough to send him running to the bathroom again, but instead he slides into the seat opposite Sorin.

"I don't care about your quarrel," he admits. "What I do care about are those Andalites. Where did they run off to?" The question is more of a demand than anything else. He speaks like someone who expects an immediate answer.

[Forlin]

Forlin was focused on morphing.  His morph took him longer than it would if he was morphing to human; Hork-Bajir was unfamiliar territory for him.  He hoped that he wouldn't be overcome by instincts all of a sudden.

He saw that they were joined by another.  He finished his morph, coming close as Ossanlin motioned him over.  Now that he had a heightened sense of smell, he could smell the blood and burning flesh, and he felt a little nauseous as he gazed upon the carnage.  So it seemed what was needed most from him for right now was blood.  It was Nepek's own blood, considering Forlin was essentially, a clone of him.  It was a way morphing might save his life...

<Go for it,> he said.  It might be a little painful, but he could take a needle or two.  He hoped that the blood from a morph wouldn't make things worse for Nepek...but if there was something wrong with morph-blood, Ossanlin would know.

<Is he...do you think he will be okay?> Forlin said, voice full of emotion.  Even though this was someone he did not know, he still wanted him to be alright.  Still cared about him.

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin quickly instructs the computer to insert a force-field needle into the primary vein of Nepek's left arm.  He then instructs the computer to do the same to Forlin's morphed body.  The computer slides needle-thin filaments of force-field into each of their arms and expands them into hollow tubes.  Ossanlin also commands the computer to relax the pressor fields as the new growth occurs in the Hork-Bajir's body.

Hork-Bajir blood begins to flow through a sterile tube of nothing floating in the air.  Of course the tube wasn't nothing, per se, it was made of force-fields.  Nepek's blood-pressure begins to climb as the new blood makes its way into his deprived, damaged body.  <With the combination of the nano-bots and the Hork-Bajir's bio-engineered resilience...>  Ossanlin lets the sentence hang.  He has little way of estimating the Hork-Bajir's chances of survival...the wound is grievous, and Nepek is past his prime.