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sanerontheinsideoriginal post
another 5+1 meme...
It was dark and stormy night. The Minister paced the length of the relatively small hangar, glancing fretfully out at the landing pad and muttering to himself, hoping the Republic Ambassadors would arrive soon. The shields kept out the rain well enough, but the cold and damp crept into his very bones, and he wasn’t much fond of it.
Finally, finally he saw a ship approach. It landed neatly, and cycled its engines down to idling and lowered the ramp a few moments later. Two hooded figures emerged, one impressively tall—perhaps a Wookie, the Minister mused—and a much smaller form just behind, taking two steps for every single stride of the larger being.
The Minister hurriedly powered down the shields and went out to greet them, immediately finding himself lashed in the face with icy streams that sent water into his hood and down his collar, and the wind ripped the words of greeting from his mouth as he hurried over to meet the Jedi. Yet the two bowed and offered a proper (if politely abbreviated) greeting in return. The Minister decided protocol and redundant security measures could go flying straight to the Wastes for all he cared, and waved them quickly inside.
In the hangar, they finally shook off their hoods. Minister Grachi was surprised to see that both were human.
“Welcome, Ambassadors,” he said, utterly mortified at the chatter of teeth that garbled his words. Damn. Grachi forced a shiver to shake off the worst of it, but the Jedi only stood calm and still before him.
“Thank you for greeting us,” the taller of the two replied, infuriatingly smooth and seeming completely unaffected by the horrid weather. “I am Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
“Honoured by your presence,” the Minister forced out, then turned briskly and waved for them to follow. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”
Twenty minutes later the Minister was back in his own office, where he had a nice couch, and a bottle of brandy that was even nicer at the moment. He poured out a small measure with shaking hands and tipped it back quickly. Then thought about it and poured another, slower this time and more coordinated. Truly abominable weather, he thought, staring out his windows.
Well, no reason to really fret about it. The cold season would be over soon, anyway. Now that the Jedi were here, they could hammer out an agreement with Ford Flow AgCorp for the agricultural equipment, and the business representatives would leave. In the next cycle, they’d be able to boost production, in another four cycles, exports. Everything was going to be all right.
Grachi tossed back the last of his brandy, kicked off his boots, and quickly shed wet layers in annoyance, glowering when it turned out to be all of them. He pulled out his spare change of clothes, laid it out on his desk, and collapsed facedown onto his trusty old couch, pulling a knit throw over himself. It wasn’t exactly the best possible blanket, but he didn’t care in the least.
Everything was going to work out just fine, he told himself, and was asleep the next moment.
And then the murders began.
haaaahahahaha. Ford Flow.
F o r d F l o w.
are u with me yet.
f o r d f l o w
o f f w o r l d
if Voldy can have a middle name of Elvis in French for translation purposes, then I have the right to declare on April-damn-Fools day that Offworld gets a shell company called Ford Flow AgCorp that purportedly deals in agricultural equipment. (They have nothing to sell. This was all a con. gdi Xanatos Qui raised you better.)
another 5+1 meme...
maawi said: It was dark and stormy night. [>D]
It was dark and stormy night. The Minister paced the length of the relatively small hangar, glancing fretfully out at the landing pad and muttering to himself, hoping the Republic Ambassadors would arrive soon. The shields kept out the rain well enough, but the cold and damp crept into his very bones, and he wasn’t much fond of it.
Finally, finally he saw a ship approach. It landed neatly, and cycled its engines down to idling and lowered the ramp a few moments later. Two hooded figures emerged, one impressively tall—perhaps a Wookie, the Minister mused—and a much smaller form just behind, taking two steps for every single stride of the larger being.
The Minister hurriedly powered down the shields and went out to greet them, immediately finding himself lashed in the face with icy streams that sent water into his hood and down his collar, and the wind ripped the words of greeting from his mouth as he hurried over to meet the Jedi. Yet the two bowed and offered a proper (if politely abbreviated) greeting in return. The Minister decided protocol and redundant security measures could go flying straight to the Wastes for all he cared, and waved them quickly inside.
In the hangar, they finally shook off their hoods. Minister Grachi was surprised to see that both were human.
“Welcome, Ambassadors,” he said, utterly mortified at the chatter of teeth that garbled his words. Damn. Grachi forced a shiver to shake off the worst of it, but the Jedi only stood calm and still before him.
“Thank you for greeting us,” the taller of the two replied, infuriatingly smooth and seeming completely unaffected by the horrid weather. “I am Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
“Honoured by your presence,” the Minister forced out, then turned briskly and waved for them to follow. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”
Twenty minutes later the Minister was back in his own office, where he had a nice couch, and a bottle of brandy that was even nicer at the moment. He poured out a small measure with shaking hands and tipped it back quickly. Then thought about it and poured another, slower this time and more coordinated. Truly abominable weather, he thought, staring out his windows.
Well, no reason to really fret about it. The cold season would be over soon, anyway. Now that the Jedi were here, they could hammer out an agreement with Ford Flow AgCorp for the agricultural equipment, and the business representatives would leave. In the next cycle, they’d be able to boost production, in another four cycles, exports. Everything was going to be all right.
Grachi tossed back the last of his brandy, kicked off his boots, and quickly shed wet layers in annoyance, glowering when it turned out to be all of them. He pulled out his spare change of clothes, laid it out on his desk, and collapsed facedown onto his trusty old couch, pulling a knit throw over himself. It wasn’t exactly the best possible blanket, but he didn’t care in the least.
Everything was going to work out just fine, he told himself, and was asleep the next moment.
And then the murders began.
haaaahahahaha. Ford Flow.
F o r d F l o w.
are u with me yet.
f o r d f l o w
o f f w o r l d
if Voldy can have a middle name of Elvis in French for translation purposes, then I have the right to declare on April-damn-Fools day that Offworld gets a shell company called Ford Flow AgCorp that purportedly deals in agricultural equipment. (They have nothing to sell. This was all a con. gdi Xanatos Qui raised you better.)
