Starwars - Saturday, January 15, 2000, 9:46 PM
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The doors of the mess open swiftly, and Bazil walks in, trussed in a set of more-or-less standard diplomatic clothes. He pauses for a short moment, looking about the area, as if looking for someone, whilst he anxiously taps a datapad in his left hand against his leg. He frowns softly, before finally spotting Poguala, and thusly walks towards her particular area.

Poguala looks suddenly alarmed. She re-counts on those long, elegant fingers of hers. "Oh dear," she says softly. "I apologize to alrm you Master Luke, but....that makes it five by my count, not four. Unless we can assuem that the woman I---that one of them may be disguised as two." She looks meanignfully to the JEdi Master, and clears her throat.

Jasmine watches as the two count on fingers the ammount of Sith, and doesn't really seem to understand any significance to what a certain number of Sith means. Perhaps this is a good thing, something that people tend not to tell her about for her own good. She sees a fourth person walk into the empty mess and watches him for a moment. He seems familar, but not enough to strike any notes in her mind.

The entering young pilot is certainly of note to the Representative, who lifts her hand in greeting. No doubt Poguala is glad to see Bazil, but more importantly, she enjoys the respite from the conversation that his entrance brings. "Lieutenant McKenzie," she calls him pelasantly. Alone at her table with erh vegetables and her thoughts, she gestures to a seat near him.

Bazil blinks momentarily. Almost caught off guard. He hands the small datapad to the representative, before taking the seat slowly, "M'am, news from Coruscant." He peers around the table at the rest of it's inhabitants.

Momentarily distracted from contemplation of the impossible task before him, Luke glances over at Bazil. News from Coruscant? He leans back, hoping to hear what news he bears to the diplomat.

Jasmine decides to use this distraction as an excuse to escape the table and get a drink before her current one runs out. "If you will please escuse me..." she says silently while everyone talks. She makes her way over for anotehr glass of fruit drink, and returns to the table, ready to continue her bagel.

Poguala takes the datapad from Bazil, tapping a few keys on it to peruse the pertinent information. She frowns slightly. "A number of items, most of them mundane, and requiring my attention, not your boredom." She laughs softly, still scanning the documents with a finger. The gesture seems antiquated minus the written page, but it does serve to punctuate her impeccable manners. She seems to be almost finished,mumbling off figures and reminders....then her eyebrows shoot up. "Zenani Abotu," she breathes. Her tongue clicks. "I knew it. No record of such parentage on Tanaab."

"What's this?" Luke questions. He had hoped for a different report, but this one could be just as intriguing. The Representative seems to be doing some research of her own. "Who is Abotu?"

Bazil watches and listens solemly, keeping quiet, and to himself. He lifts his hands onto the table, and folds them neatly there, intertwining the fingers slowly. His head peers back and forth between the various persons, as each speak. Not a single bored look on his face, unless hiding such, he seems to almost be enjoying this.

A small, slow smile spreads on Poguala's lips, tinged with a deliciously victorious curl. She looks up at Luke. "You recall the woman in customs? I decided to run a background check on her name. I wanted to see if I could corroborate or debnk her story. As certain as the Worm's turning, and as I suspect, there is no record of a Zenani Abotu on Tanaab, or who was ever born on Tanaab, as she had claimed. A disguise, and a poor one, at that. I was certain I was going to have to look through birth records, to finda dead baby by her name." She taps the datapad, smiling at Bazil, "Thank you -- /this/ is good news. I now need to run another check to see if we can determine by holographic analysis who this woman MIGHT be."

Jasmine blinks a bit, her attention is had now as the name Zenani is said. "Zenani is the name of the Sith I met on Gastus. Scary woman, had felinoid eyes and a bad temper too. Not to mention her thought eavesdropping..."

Fascinated, Luke's eyes widen slightly. "That -is- good news," he concurs, folding his arms over his chest. "I didn't know you had gotten so much information out of her, Poguala, even if it was false information." He glances at Jasmine, nodding, and rubs his chin thoughtfully. "You saw her on Gastus, we saw her on Coruscant, and now she's teamed up with that other woman. I don't suppose you got a chance to question her, did you?" he asks wryly.

Bazil finally smiles in self-assurance, and leans back into his chair, settling in finally. He crosses his arms, resting them against his chest, and bobs his head at Poguala softly. He continues to watch and listen.

Poguala places teh dayapad aside easily, then looks at Jasmine with some interest. "What exactlydo you mean by...thought eavesdropping? I admit to curiosity."

Jasmine blinks aas the attention is shifted to her, she'd think she would enjoy attention. "Well, she knew what I was thinking. She even answered my thoughts. It was all very unnerving to tell you the truth. And then there was the way she treated poor Altair. Such a rude evil woman."

The information from Jasmine doesn't surprise Luke at all. This Zenani person didn't strike him as the most controlled Force user he'd ever seen, and it wasn't hard to imagine her running around sloppily invading people's minds, and not even being able to do it without detection. He grimaces, and looks over at Poguala to see her reaction.

Poguala's eyebrow raise to a high, elegant, surprised, and very pleased arch. Her interest in Jasmine's story is entirely piqued. "You say this woman treated Lieutenant Quila poorly? Could you describe in greater detail HOW Zeanni tretaed her? If your details match my suspicions and my...feelings, I think we may havea positive match." She smiles softly to Luke. "And a good match for a conversion, or infiltration."

Jasmine looks back and forth at the two, a little bit nervously as she tries to explain. "Well, I remember her talking to Altair very rudely, and Altair took it. Normally she would have said something, but there was apparently something there I didn't see. Altair just told me to get far away and not worry about any of it." She thinks for a moment, "I remember one time that altair accidently bumped into her. Zenani got all upset and hit her. That woman gave me the creeps, even now." She shudders once again.

Poguala leans back, nodding, listening very intently to Jasmine's story. She smacks her lips. "I see that these people can be determined individually, as well as a general sensation." This is said very quietly, as though the diplomat were thinking aloud, weighing options, considering answers. She exhales, after a good thirty seconds of this deep thoughtfulness, and says to Luke, "Perhaps it is four. I am almost one hundred percent certain that this Zenani, as she calls herself nowadays, is none other than our formerly esteemed diplomat, Morganna Tazecks." She smirks, then murmurs. "The easiest of the prey."

The Jedi Master hesitates, and drums his fingers on the tabletop. He looks very thoughtful, as if weighing options carefully in his mind. Finally, he asks, "Can she be saved?" in a matter-of-fact voice. It's obvious from his tone that he expects and values and the diplomat's opinion.

The figure of the cadet becomes visible as he steps up from below the depts of the ships support corridor. His hands, once, intertwined behind him falls to his sides as his green eyes soar the room to take in what is present and moreso, whom is present, he nods to whomever he recognizes, he stands hesitant in the Six Forward for a second before proceeding

Poguala exhales, drumming her fingers lightly on the tabletop. "Master Luke," she says very patiently, "Certainly if we can get a positive genetic scan on this woman, she can be brought in for questioning. One of the few assets to being in the position I am is that I am able to advise the Council on the most mundane of matters. A question shall arise on the floor concerning a warrant for a false weapons permit for Zenani, thenext time she elects to visit Coruscant." She lifts a hand dismissively, "As for saving...I am no Jedi. I knwo nothing of the ways of your order. If you wish it, I can make certain you are present for her questioning, then you may do as you may, according to the rules of your world and your order."

His padded footsteps can still be heard as he inches his way towards the Bar area, as he reaches his eyes move over the menu. He blinks his eyes once or twice and then leans over the counter. He ahs as he finally makes a choice, whispering over to the man what he desires." He rubs his hands over his face, and awaits his order to be carried out. A few moments later, the tender slides over to him a cup and under it a saucer, white, the glass holding some form of liquid, very deep brown as it seems. He slowly wraps his hands around the cup and takes a sip, after he finishes, he settles the cup on the saucer. He then proceeds to scan the area with his eyes, as he finds a spot to sit, he takes the glass as well as the saucer and moves over to a nearby table. He carefully settles down the cup and draws back a chair. As he sits down, he looks around the room catching sight of what appears to be the brass of the alliance, he says nothing to either person, he just takes a sip from his glass.

Bazil's face has, throughout the conversation, grown more and more drawn out. Wisping in confusion, Bazil tries to keep up with the conversation for the most part. Bazil takes a moment to look around the mess slowly, bearing his eyes on Wes for a moment, before moving on. Finally, he returns his attention back to the discussion.

Jasmine returns to her bagel, happy that the uneasy spotlight is off of her, and on to other important matters. She notes that another person has joined the somewhat empty mess hall, but it doesn't look like anyone she knows, perhaps a cadet or ensign she hasn't ran a medical evaluation on yet.

Wes wraps his hands around the cup, and brings it to his lips, take a long sip of the soothing liquid and then settling it once more upon its saucer. At the corner of his eyes, he catches sight of Bazil gaze upon him, he smiles slightly, "Hey.." he responds in low tones. As he does so, he stretches his legs out to and up upon the other chair facing him. He once more looks between the faces of those there, he catches sight of Jasmine as well and nods in her direction, greeting her with, "Evenin', Madame"

There's nothing more that Luke could ask from Poguala in the way of assistance, and he realizes almost painfully that the rest will be up to him. The former Imperial ambassador may or may not have a spark of the light still within her soul, but perhaps Luke will have the time to ascertain that one way or the other. "Thank you," he replies to the diplomat. "I would very much appreciate being present."

Poguala exhales. Her fingers drum on the the tabletop several times, she keeping her silence, thinking, again weighing options, again considering. She says finally, "Lieutenant McKenzie. You seem to know more of the shady side of town, as they say. If you needed to...wheedle someone out of the shadows, or wanted to create a distraction to entice someone, what sort of options would you consider?"

Bazil's face again drifts over to Wes for a moment. He furrows his brows softly, nodding his head in reply, before turning his attention to Poguala, taking in the question. He presses a hand to his chin for a moment, thinking to himself, "Well... hmm..." His eyes flicker around quickly, as he pulls in various ideas, "One might set up a false business deal, meeting, or whatnot. If you knew something about them personally, one might be able to lure them out with something that appeals to them... a great offer, or whatever." He shrugs, continuing to think, and then focuses on her again, "Of course, one of the more successful ways would be to plant false rumours here and there. Most often something that -- again -- has particular interest to them. An adversary, good friend, et cetera." He simply frowns slightly.

"Well," Luke offers dryly, "we have plenty of adversaries to dangle in front of her."

Poguala mmhmms. "Lieutenant Quila being the most obvious. Bazil, how well do you know Altair?"

Jasmine looks up from her nibbling of bagel and bows her head in greeting to the unfamilar man, "Evening to you as well, sir." She listens to the conversation only in half, since most of it is well above her head. However, the mention of Altair gets her attention back fully as they discuss matters.

"Fairly well, I suppose," Bazil offers up, "She was my CO when I was with Ghost Squad. I flew with her on a number of occasions, and occasionally spoke with her outside the context of a flying enviroment."

Poguala nods. "Good. Then I should be very pleased if you would take it upon yourself as my aide and pilot to speak with Miss Quila directly. That is, of course, if you do not object." She smiles softly. "I have a few ideas, but some oftheir execution goes far beyondmy understanding of the galaxy's underpinnings. I defer to your expertise in that matter, Bazil. D'you think you can send a communication to her, to arrange a meeting?"

Luke is quiet and thoughtful during the rest of this exchange. He has much to dwell on and plan for, and is content to let the others do their part so he can concentrate on his own. He leans back in his chair, tapping his lips thoughtfully with a fingertip.

Wes raises his glass to his lips, taking another sip and this time finishing the cup of liquid. His eyes wander back to Jasmine as he hears another's voice, this time directed towards himself. He shakes his head, "Syr?" his prounciation resembling more of ancient form of dialect. "Not Syr, madame, call me Carter or wes, by all means of course" he quirks a brow as he listens to the conversation between the brass. He, however, makes nothing of it as he knows nothing of what they talk about.

A soft, mellow frown crosses Bazil's face for a moment, as he tries to recall something. "Yes, I would be glad to do it. And I will send a communique to her later this evening." His eyes dart over to Wes for a moment, but only superficially. Not a single thought passes through Bazil's mind about the man, before his attention is yet again drawn back to Poguala.

From Poguala issues forth a small, satisfied, and somewhat feral sigh. "Finally, I may be getting somewhere," she says with delighted purpose. "When I am able, Bazil, you, Altair, and I will come up with an acceptabel plan of action for her capture. It will take me a few days to discuss with Council what legal means I have for detaining her. I am certian there are many, given my suspicion of her identity." She smacks her lips, taking time to examine Bazil's reactions, his frown, his burgeoning concern. She calls him on it. "Is there something on your mind, Lieutenant?"

Poguala adds, with a flip of her hand, "Something else?"

Bazil shakes his head in reply, "Nothing of importance for the moment. Merely a consideration of the events unfolding." His eyes glance over to Luke for a moment, as he examines the expressions. Returning his direction to Poguala, he says, "There is one thing, however. If we are to... lure this person out into the open with an adversary... that adversary has to be a fairly strong one... otherwise, the other may just ignore them entirely..." He stops, thinking to himself for a moment, before offering up a small shrug.

Luke quirks a brow, and glances over at Poguala. He's not exactly sure what to make of this.

Poguala raises a hand, to stay Bazil's concerns and questions, for now. "I ask only that you contact Altair at this juncture. I need to speak with her before considering the next move. There are a number of possibilties to consider, contingent upon Altair. Alright?" The last word is said in hersoothing tone, a deeper tenor than unsual.

Bazil nods, relaxing into his seat, "Yes, m'am." He loosens up, trying to keep from blurting out his other concerns. Again, he leans back into the chair, and crosses his arms across his chest. He takes a deep breath, before looking between the others again.

Picking up his long forgotten glass of juice, Luke moves from the table at last, returning it to the reptacle area, and then comes to pause next to Poguala's chair. He offers her and Bazil both a nod of appreciation. "Thanks," he says sincerely. "I can use all your help. I have to get going. It's time I made it back to Coruscant -- Leia must be worried sick by now."

Poguala looks up to Luke, and smiles. "Give her my warm regards, please? I shall no doubt need ot see her soon." She offers the Jedi Master a gentle pat on his arm, then she too rises. "As for me,I must retire. I have some planning ahead of me, as well as few letters I will need to draft." Shebows to all assembled. "I bid you all good night."

Poguala glances at Bazil. "You will see me in my chambers on Coriuscant tomorrow morning." She pauses. "With an update."

Bazil stands also, and nods softly, "Understood." He turns towards Luke, and bobs his head out of respect.