Log Date:
	5/27/97

Log Cast:
	Paul Nighman, Shenneret Veery, Xavier Nighman

Log Intro:
	It is the day after Shenner has suffered a harrowing experience
on the streets of Corellia -- an attack by a vagrant on her way back from
buying groceries for Paul. The robber demanded Shenner's money, and,
upon discovering that she wasn't carrying much, attempted to molest her
instead; only the timely intervention of a young man Shenner had met on
the beach kept her from being assaulted, and Trace, the young man in
question, insisted on seeing Shenner to safety. But Trace and Shenner
discovered in turn that Paul had gone out looking for the young musician, and
when they searched for him, the three were inadvertantly caught in a flareup
of hostilities between rival gangs that same night. An aghast Shenner
watched Trace get shot by a poisoned dart during the incident, and Paul
escorted the girl back to his father's house; there, the two curled up in one
another's arms to sleep on the couch.
	Morning, however, found Paul and Shenner waking to the reminder
that they are powerfully drawn to one another. Only the interruption of
Paul's father -- and a snide one at that -- snapped the two into awareness of
their location; only then did they sheepishly get up and head out to visit the
wounded young man who had saved Shenner's life. And now....

----------
As they head down toward the History and Archeology Department building,
  Paul ruminates over their rather brief visit to the Med Center. He had
  pretty much kept quiet the whole time, as he could tell that the young
  Corellian was uncomfortable, but whether it was over his presence or
  Shenner's, he wasn't quite sure. It was obvious that the young man had
  gotten something of a Shenner curse, having most of his interactions with
  the girl starting and ending with disaster, so he could very well be that he
  was uncomfortable with Shen. Grinning to himself, he realizes that he might
  not the the only Corellian around with a phobia for redheads. Flashing Shen
  a quick side glance, he also notes that he was getting some therapy for that
  disorder these days. If he was lucky, the cure wouldn't kill him. His mind
  flitted back to Trace and to the questions that he had wanted to ask the
  lad. "Why" was a big one. However, the last thing the kid needed was the
  10th degree. Of course, he did hide it well. Flashing yet another look to
  Shen he wondered if she had even noticed Trace's discomfort. He had been 
  friendly and charming, and had even flattered her slightly once or twice, 
  but to Paul he had seemed quite subdued. Of course, he was still suffering 
  from the poisoning, letting on that he felt better than he really did. When 
  he had mentioned that it had been neuraline poisoning, well, he knew from 
  first hand experience the virulence of that particular poison. He shrugs 
  his shoulders absently, realizing that Trace was a rather decent young man, 
  and being a Corellian, that was really saying something. He shifted his gaze 
  again to Shenner, wondering ever so briefly if she really wouldn't be better 
  off with someone like Trace.

The girl, as she accompanies Paul out of the medical center and back towards 
  the University, is uncharacterstically subdued as well. She walks with her 
  head slightly lowered, as though she'd like to just stare fixedly at the
  ground as she goes, though her green gaze flicks around every so often,
  enough to let her keep tabs on where to step and at what speed her tall
  companion is moving. If she is aware of Paul's subtle glances, she gives no
  sign of it; he can catch her nibbling pensively at her lower lip, as she
  walks along with her slender hands jammed into the pockets of her battered
  vest. Occasionally she quirks her head a little, trying to toss her forelock
  out of her way -- her hair has gotten longer, and more often than not, now,
  that curl hangs heavily in her eyes.

Placing a companionable hand across her shoulders as they walk, Paul looks
  down again at Shen. Her face, her gait, her body language are clear
  indicators that something is bothering her. "Hey, you in there?" he teases
  gently.

Shenner looks up, and smiles sheepishly, lopsidedly. "Yeah," she says, voice a 
  little low, a little rough.

Paul squeezes her shoulder affectionately. "You worried about Trace?" he 
  queries her gently, seeing as how she isn't going to offer anything unbidden.

The girl reddens a little, then finally nods, glancing off to one side of the 
  walkway as she and Paul make their way onto the University campus. "Yeah. 
  I... I dunno, Paul, I just... keep feelin' like I did somethin' wrong, you 
  know?"

Turning the corner of the main campus auditorium, Paul flicks his gaze about 
  to make sure that they are on the right track, and then looks back toward 
  Shen. The campus is quiet, almost deserted during the spring break period. 
  "What do you mean, -you- did something wrong ... how so?"

Looking acutely uncomfortable, Shenner mumbles, "I think I did something to 
  upset him."

Paul frowns slightly, and is forced to give Shenner's instincts more credit 
  than he previously had. He curbs the urge to reply, "What, like getting him 
  shot?" and instead asks, "How so?"

"He... wanted to take me out on a... date," the girl murmurs, "and I think it 
  disappointed him that I put him off. And then, well, I went and got him 
  hurt, real karkin' nice payback for him goin' out of his way to help me, 
  _three times_, even..." She'd said as much to the young Corellian, though in 
  fewer words, trying to apologize to him -- and had only obliquely spoken of 
  the date, with her cryptic comment of 'Guess this wasn't whatcha had in mind 
  when you asked me about, well, you know...'

Trying to puzzle this out for a moment, Paul shakes his head. "So you think 
  which part "upset" him? I mean, him getting injured was in no way your fault 
  ... he chose to tackle you, and if there is anyone to blame, it is the gang 
  members," he offers reasonably. Then, in a softer almost curious voice he 
  asks, "Do you -want- to go out with him?"

That seems to trouble Shenner anew, and her bemused frown deepens for a moment 
  before she finally, slowly, shakes her head.

He pauses, as they draw near to the building in question, not wanting to carry 
  this conversation inside. "Okay, so you don't want to go on a date with 
  Trace ... but you feel guilty about it? Guilty about him getting shot?"

Shenner lowers her eyes to her boots, and uneasily offers by way of reply, "I 
  didn't wanna hurt him... he's nice."

"He is nice," Paul agrees ambiably, "and while you might have hurt his ego 
  slightly by saying no, you probably haven't done any lasting damage. Trust 
  me, being a Corellian male who has heard the word "no" many a time, it only 
  hurts when a serious relationship is in progress, not a flirtation." He rubs 
  her shoulder a little and then peers up at the building.

Shenner blows out a breath, looking vaguely frightened at the word 
  'flirtation', then tries to smile.
You say "So -- uhm -- where we gotta go, huh?"

Paul stares up at the building and then back to Shen. "Well, this is it
  actually." He looks at her thoughtfully, wondering if she is really up to
  what might prove to be an unpleasant encounter. "Look, if you just wanna
  hang out here for a bit, I can talk to the old man and find out where the
  stuff is and then come and get you?"

The girl squares her shoulders. "Nah. I'm your assistant, I should stick with
  you."

There is a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. Some might mistake it 
  for hunger or indigestion, but Paul knows better. It's a knot of dread. He 
  nods casually though and squares his shoulders as well. "Alright then, this 
  way," and he shoves the door with an excess of strength, heading into the 
  building.

Shenner's thin face sets itself into lines of cautious determination. She pads 
  after her friend, her steps steadier now than they had been coming out of 
  the medical center, almost as if the kid senses that Paul might need her to 
  be a supportive presence.

Paul chooses to take the stairs up rather than the lift, and after three 
  flights, he enters into the main corridor and walks purposefully over to one 
  of the doors. On the door is the title, "Dr. Xavier Nighman, Ph.D, XD 
  Department Head, History and Archeology" Paul pauses for a moment, as if 
  listening for sounds from within, before he lifts his hand and knocks 
  soundly. There is an instant reponse in a familar voice that sounds already 
  a touch irritated. "Come in."

Shenner purses her lips, then waits for Paul to go ahead of her, though she 
  flicks a look up at his face as she does so.

His face, taut and a little cold, doesn't betray any emotions, but obviously 
  something in his father's tone has struck a chord. He opens the door and 
  steps in as if ready for an attack, and he is not braced without cause. As 
  soon as he is visible, his father turns with an angry scowl and then peers 
  at his chrono. "Ah, so there you are .... finally." His gaze shifts slightly 
  to Shenner and then back to Paul, disapproval stamped on his every feature.

Shenner feels her spine stiffen at that. Remembering Paul's warnings that she 
  should probably keep her mouth shut around his father, she doesn't answer 
  him, but she keeps her gaze up and steady, returning the elder Nighman's 
  brief regard.

Putting on a polite tone that is at odds with his stance Paul replies, "I'm 
  sorry that we are late, but we were just ...." but his father interrupts him 
  harshly, "I know exactly what you two were -doing-, and it only confirms my 
  worst fears ... everything that I've heard about you is obviously true. I 
  can't believe that you actually came here, thinking that I would hand over 
  the work of a colleague whom I respect to ... to ... a no good, womanizing, 
  scoundrel pirate and smuggler who doesn't even have the decency to pretend 
  he is other than that, who has taken his education and shamed the 
  archaeology community by using his talents to rob and sell off his findings, 
  who leaves me to wait here all day while he is off philadering with the ... 
  coarser elements," his gaze definitely touching upon Shenner here, "and then 
  to have the audacity to have relations with your your ...." and his gaze 
  drops to Shen again, as if uncertain, or unwilling to give her a title, 
  "-assistant- under -my- roof, in my living room, like it was some common 
  cheap whorehouse brothel!" Dr. Nighman's color is high, and his voice loud 
  and booming as he finishes up. "Well, Xavier, you are certainly no son of 
  mine, and if you think for one minute that I am going to turn up those 
  artifacts to your thieving hands, then you are sorely mistaken!" 

Paul just stands there, his face nearly white. It is one thing to suspect 
  that your father thinks you are low-life scum and that he disrespects you. 
  It's quite another to have it and his complete and utter disgust with you 
  hollered aloud. Several different emotions run across his face as he deals 
  with the harsh personal blow, trying to diffuse it somehow, and the fact 
  that his father has unjustly accused Shenner, who must be defended.

The girl, however, stares hard at Xavier Nighman. Then, before Paul can speak, 
  she suddenly steps forward. Her face has turned hard and white, and her eyes 
  blaze in -- no, this isn't an explosion of her temper. Rather, this is 
  _wrath_, a wrath that turns her green eyes piercingly clear. "Dr. Nighman," 
  she says, not raising her voice, but speaking all the same with a fullness 
  and pitch to her voice that makes it carry _extremely_ well and cuts it 
  right in under the old scholar's bellow, "I'm going to tell you something. 
  One -- I care about your son. Not because he's handsome -- though gods know 
  I do think that of him -- but because he is the first person since my mother 
  died who's treated me with kindness and respect. He's tried to help me 
  believe that I'm _worth_ something, that it doesn't make any difference 
  where or to whom I was born, but just because I'm a thinking, sentient being 
  with a head on my shoulders!"

Shenner's forceful words come as a surprise to both of the Nighmans, Paul 
  turning about somewhat astonished and taking a step back, his mind still 
  reeling and trying to pull together its strands of control. His father is 
  somewhat less reactive, merely dropping his gaze to the fiery redhead with a 
  surprised scowl, his brows knitting at the unexpected flaming ember next to 
  his son.

"Two," continues Shenner, not wavering an inch, her words ringing with
  conviction, "I was _born_ in a 'common whorehouse brothel'. My mother was a
  common whore. And I'm here to tell you that what your son was doing with me
  on your couch this morning was _nothing_ like what goes on in a brothel.
  While I've been with Paul on this journey, he has not touched me _once_
  without asking me if it's what _I_ want. Just like he's always been, tryin'
  to help me how to learn to use my head, to _learn_ in general, he's been
  tryin' now to help me get over bein' bone-deep _scared_ of the mere fact
  that I _am_ a girl and _don't_ have to be scared of it _because_ my mom was
  a whore!"
"Three -- where we _were_, sir, is at the medical center, visiting Trace, who 
  _saved my life_!" Shenner's eyes blaze again as she delivers this statement, 
  and she goes on, jabbing a scolding finger at Paul's sire. "I _owed_ him at 
  _least_ a visit, and if you wanna yell at somebody about us takin' the time 
  to thank Trace for that, then by gods, you yell at _me_, _not_ at Paul!" 
  Then, the girl leans forward, planting both hands on the desk that separates 
  her and Paul from his father, and she looks Xavier Nighman square in the eye 
  as she concludes, "Four -- I used to envy Paul for havin' somethin' I've 
  never had. A father. But after meeting you, sir, and seein' what a bitter 
  old man you are, that you have to tear into Paul for havin' somebody around 
  who _loves_ him, I don't envy him anymore!"
And with that, Shenner steps back, moving to the door. "I know where I ain't 
  wanted, so I'll step outta here. I suggest you use my absence to apologize 
  to your _son_." Then, she is gone.

Paul's face is no longer white, but rather red. He drops one hand to the 
  reception desk, grateful that the building is nearly empty at this time of 
  year. His father's gaze had been narrowed on Shenner for most of her 
  diatribe, shifting occasionally to Paul, but her rant didn't convince him of 
  anything other than her devotion to his son, which granted, was something to 
  behold, but is only her opinion ... and if the girl is infatuated with his 
  son, well then ... However, when she reaches her third point, there is a 
  small flash of shame that crosses the old man's face and he steals a guilty 
  glance at his son, grateful for the fact that Paul's eyes are trained solely 
  on Shenner. The fourth point, however, strikes painfully close to home for 
  both men. Paul's gaze falters and drops to the ground as the emotions from 
  all sides, both old and new, rush up against him, buzzing and swarming like
  insects. His father turns his gaze to Paul, taking in his son's flustered
  and devastated expressions, his lips narrowing at the girls claim's against
  him. He shifts his eyes away from Paul uncomfortably and back to Shen, but
  she has already finished and has left. He blinks for a moment, for the first
  time in a long time, uncertain of what to say.

Out in the hallway, Shenner, fueled by the same burst of energy that had
  powered her speech to Paul's father, strides unseeingly several meters down
  the corridor before that burst of energy drains out of her as quickly as it 
  had arisen. Now, away from the two Nighman men, it occurs to her to take a
  second look at her own words -- and it occurs to her further that she'd
  delivered what amounted to a second declaration of love, right in front of
  Paul. Mortified, Shen leans, shuddering, against a wall and presses her eyes
  shut. _Karkin' hells... what was I thinkin'?!_

He cannot, will not apologize, is the first prideful thought that crosses
  Xavier Nighman's mind. At the very same instant, his logic rails against 
  such an inconceivable decision, but his pride and shame stand firm. However, 
  with no apology readily available, he is left without any words. A
  compromise is struck and he looks up at Paul and says thoughtfully, "Well,
  it appears that I have made a mistake," but the simple words infer more than
  the older man is comfortable with admiting for the moment, and he somewhat
  hastily adds, "about why you are late, that is."

Paul's eyes raise to his fathers and he takes a step forward and rage surges
  past all of the other emotions. "Damn you, you are wrong about a great
  number of things, -sir-," he growls fiercely. "Shenner and myself being
  primary among those. You do both of us wrong with your assumptions about our
  relationship, and despite her background, I have found her to be one of the
  most intelligent and interesting women that it has been my pleasure to know
  ... she is my friend, damn you, not my concubine or whore!" His eyes glitter
  dangerously. "As for myself, I am sick and tired of being a second class
  citizen instead of your son. You said that I am no son of yours, and I
  concur. I have no father, only a mother, that I lost at the age of six. I
  raised myself, by myself, with no ones help other than Molari Canto, who was
  far more of a father to me than you ever were. As of this moment, I disown
  you ... you never existed, you were never part of my life, and you never
  will be again. I was a fool to come back after all this time, but if you
  think for one minute that you are going to hold out on me, deny me access to
  those artifacts, then think again. I don't know where you get your rumors
  from, but that's all they are. If you're curious to know how I know that
  they are even here in the first place, then you can give Molari a call, and
  maybe he'll give you a piece of his mind as well." He whirls for the door,
  but spins about a moment later, his raging eyes and soft threatening voice
  cutting off his father's retort, which dies with a soft rattle in the man's
  throat. "However, I can play a role as well as anyone, and if you dare try
  to keep the artifacts from me, you'll see just how much of a "coarser
  element" I can be if I so desire. Where are they?" he demands. To his
  surprise his father softly replies, "Basement, section B." without the
  slightest protest. It shocks Paul that his father would aquiesce so easily, 
  but he doesn't give the older man the satisfaction of knowing that. He nods
  gruffly and turns, whipping the door open and slamming it behind him.

That slam carries very well down the corridor, and Shenner jerks her head up
  from where she stands.

Paul's form pauses for a brief second, and then, orienting on the fact that
  Shenner is not only still in the building, but just down the hall, he snaps
  around, heading straight for her, his eyes bright and glittering with mixed
  emotions.

The girl straightens, watching Paul approach. She says nothing as she waits
  for him to draw near, hints of embarrassment and worry playing across her
  features.

As he draws up to her, Paul reaches out with both hands and in a surprising
  gesture, grabs Shen hard, dragging her form to his and kissing her fiercely,
  desperately for a long moment before releasing her lips and holding her
  against his torso. The edgy kiss now over, he clings to her as if somehow he
  could fuse them into one person, as he tries to convey his thanks, his
  emotions, without words, his throat too sharp with unshed tears to be able
  to vocalize his thoughts.

Only for a short breath of a moment does Shenner gasp, and that breath is as
  she's grabbed. Kissed and then clung to, she fleetingly wonders what it was
  she said -- or perhaps what was said when she left -- that Paul should do
  this, but it seems infinitely more important to focus on holding Paul as he
  holds her. Shen wraps her arms around him and presses her cheek against his
  chest, as high as she can reach when the top of her head barely clears his
  shoulder.

He holds her for awhile, one hand across her shoulders and the other at her
  back. He absorbs the feeling of her small delicate form hugging his, giving
  without question or protest. Sighing softly Paul draws back gently, his eyes
  cruising across her features, "Sorry," is the first words that his throat is
  willing to release, and then, "Thank you ... for everything." He reaches up
  with one hand to draw the hair back from where it lies across her brow.

"No problem," Shenner murmurs, looking up at her tall companion. A bit of a
  blush colors her cheeks, a hint of embarrassment, but it is far outweighed
  by the concern in the clear green depths of her gaze, asking without words,
  _Are you alright?_

He doesn't answer her unspoken question, but asks it instead. "My savior," he
  mumurs softly in a voice rosy with affection and astonishment at her
  actions. "That was quite a scene ... are you okay?"

Her blush deepens a trifle. "Guess I still gotta work on my temper," she
  mumbles sheepishly. "Really put my foot in it.... but, uh, yeah, I'm okay..."

Paul drops a light kiss to her lips again and smiles thoughtfully. "Well,
  maybe just a little bit ... but I think both of your feet are solidly on the
  ground myself ... you didn't say anything that wasn't true, and you didn't
  holler once .... but I am sorry you got dragged into the middle of that ...
  his issues are with me, and he had no right to involve you."

Nothing that isn't true... Shenner swallows a little, thinking about what this
  implies about Paul's reactions to certain things she'd uttered. But,
  determinedly she relegates that to low priority and asks instead,
  plaintively, "Did he apologize?"

Shrugging with a great deal more nonchalance than he is feeling, Paul murmurs,
  "Not exactly, but it's not an issue now."

The girl studies the Corellian's features searchingly, but simply nods,
  perhaps grasping that it might not be too wise to press for any further
  details. "What now?"

Taking her hand in his, he pulls her along the corridor, grateful that she
  didn't pry any further into his reasoning there. Although he is smothering
  the feelings of hurt and resentment as best as he can, the ground is still
  freshly turned and raw. "Basement, section B," he replies cryptically.

Shenner offers no argument, as she falls into rapid strides beside Paul. _The
  artifacts,_ she thinks, making an intuitive leap. _I guess the old guy's
  gonna let us at 'em..._ Neither does she miss that Paul is hanging on to her
  hand, and the warmth of his palm and fingers against her own remains a
  glowing spot on the side of her awareness.

Paul leads her down the corridor and to a lift this time, entering the shaft
  and pushing some buttons to indicate the basement, section B. The doors hist
  closed and the lift drops obligingly several floors and then stops for a 
  moment and begins to shift to the left, speeding along. Paul's hand, still
  wrapped about Shen's gives hers an absent squeeze, but he simply stares at
  the controls until the lift slows down and the lights flash to indicate they
  have arrived. The door hist open, exposing a rather dark, grey colored area
  ahead that seems to have many crates and boxes stored in it. Paul steps out,
  tugging gently on Shen's hand once again.

The girl follows, apparently not at all displeased to have her hand thusly
  held, for her fingers keep a firm grip. Shen's gaze takes in her
  surroundings, and she murmurs, "D'you know where to look?"

Nodding his head over to the right a bit he nods. "Section B .... and they
  should be marked as "personal" and from Mandalore," he notes absently,
  heading over toward the section. As he draws nearer, he releases her hand so
  he can open up the gate marked "B" and motions her inside.

"Okay..." Already looking for appropriately marked boxes, Shenner asks, "So
  what exactly are we lookin' for?"

Paul peers about and then finds a light switch and passes his hand over it, 
  illuminating the space. "Hopefully we'll know when we find it," he murmurs. 
  "I didn't dare press for more than the location, and I was astonished to get 
  even that," he mutters darkly, peering about. "As for what's inside, again, 
  we should know when we find it .... just scout about and tell me what you 
  see."

Shen chews at one end of her lip, then lets out a breath and bobs her head 
  readily. "Hokay... ah, there, look Paul..." She points off across the room, 
  spotting one box labelled 'Mandalore' and striding to it; she pauses a 
  moment to look it over, before carefully trying to pull it forth from the 
  shelf on which it resides.

Paul strides over, noting that there are quite a few boxes marked "Mandalore" 
  and helps Shenner drag them off from the shelves. "Well, best thing do to is 
  crack them open and see if there is a packing list ... and if not, then 
  we'll just have to search through them till find the right things." He opens 
  up one container, grateful as well as dismayed that it isn't locked and 
  peers inside. "No manifest," he mutters in disappointment.

With a soft 'whuff' at the weight of the boxes she sets down on the floor, the 
  girl skims a glance over each as she does so, till she has three before her. 
  She tests the lid on each, and reports, "These're unlocked..."

"Just search them one at a time," he suggests, sitting down next to the box he 
  had pulled out and reaching in. He pulls out some clothing, which he sets 
  aside with nary a glance. "Look for anything that seems out of place or 
  unusual," he offers in advice.

"Uh, Paul, what _would_ be out of place stored down here?" Shen asks, as she 
  delves into the first of the boxes she's hauled out.

She is rewarded with a small chuckle. "Good question. Let's just say that 
  anything like clothing and obvious utensils you can put aside. Anything that 
  you don't recognize or that looks really old, put in a seperate pile, and 
  we'll go through that stuff and see what is and what isn't valuable or 
  important. Anything like a datapad or similar recording device should be put 
  aside for further examination." He pulls out a small computer disk and 
  stares at it thoughtfully before putting it aside from the clothing.

"Hokay..." Shenner peers into the first box she's claimed, and begins to pull 
  out several pieces of pottery, or at least so one would probably surmise 
  from the shapes of the objects swaddled in protective layers of packing 
  foam. Minutes begin to pass as she lines them up beside her as she works, 
  her brow furrowed in concentration as she keeps tabs on how the pieces had 
  been packed in the box, so that she can put them back in the same way when 
  she's done.

Paul watches her for a moment, and then seeing that she has the knack of the 
  whole thing, he applies himself to his own task. He takes less time to work 
  through the boxes, probably due to the fact that he has a better idea of 
  what is an artifact and what is just old. At one point he pulls out a small 
  silver tool and points it at a necklace object before dropping it in the 
  artifact pile. His boxes seem a great deal more random - clothes and 
  household utensils mixed in with artifacts, some of them obviously extremely 
  old. He moves to the next box and begins to examine its contents.

"Bowl... mug?... bowl..." Shenner mutters. After a while it is apparent that 
  pottery is all that was in the first box and she repacks it, pausing once to 
  sneeze at a buildup of dust that irritates her nose.
Shen's second box turns up first, of all things, a clearly old and dented 
  edition of the kind of helmet the girl had last seen being worn by one Dane 
  Noth. "Whoa," remarks the bardling, turning the thing around in her hands 
  and squinting at its faded markings, then inside it.

Paul nods at her and searching his pockets tosses her a pen. "If everything in 
  the box is the same, then you can just mark the box with the contents." He 
  peers at the helmet. "If you find the box is a random mix of stuff, then 
  make piles and we'll repack more appropriately."

Shenner nods briskly and sets the helmet aside, beginning to search the rest 
  of the box. She comes up with fragments and husks of armor and weaponry, 
  perhaps left over from the Clone Wars... or earlier battles, judging by the 
  tarnish of age on some of the stylized blades.

Paul's boxes contain more odds and ends - pieces of jewelry, a few small 
  sculptural pieces, as well as some tools and objects that are unfamiliar to 
  even Paul, who peers at them in puzzlement.

Harumph. Shenner supposes that broken bits of weaponry and armor probably 
  won't be very useful in locating -- well, whatever it is that Grathix wants 
  Paul to locate. She takes the time to repack the second box and uses Paul's 
  pen to label it, trying to print clearly for once instead of using her usual 
  crampled little scrawl. 'Weapons and armor', thusly, is the second box 
  christened, and after a moment, the girl turns to label the first box as 
  well: 'Dishes'. As she works, perhaps unthinkingly, she hums under her 
  breath, her voice the only other sound as she punctuates it with the tiny 
  noises of her rummagings.

Scanning the necklace in his hand with the carbon dater, the age of 250 years 
  comes up and Paul shakes his head, staring at the piece. He should feel 
  excited. He should be elated. He should be ripping through the boxes at a 
  furious rate. He should be, but he isn't. He tenderly places the necklace 
  next to some of the other objects that he's found and his eyes wander over 
  to where Shenner sits, contentedly humming and pouring over her set of 
  boxes. A small flicker of envy steals over him and is gone. He lifts up one 
  of the data chits and stares at it hopefully. Everything so far as been so 
  random - some pieces are only a few years old, some forty, some hundreds. 
  There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it ... unless the 
  Mandalorian kept records of what he found and where. He shakes his head and 
  his arm drops heavily to one knee.

Shenner casts a sidelong look at her companion, sees him sitting there doing 
  nothing, and pauses with the opened lid of the third box in her slender 
  hand. "Paul?"

Jerking with a guilty start, Paul turns and looks over at Shen while pulling 
  over his next box. "Yeah Shen, what is it?"

"You okay?" Her voice is soft, a little shy.

He could lie, he knew that. He could also probably make her believe it, but 
  what was the point of that? "No," he answers honestly, "but it isn't the 
  first time and it won't be the last," he adds dismissively, trying to 
  underplay the hurt. He opens the box and reaches in, pulling out a strange 
  looking wand device with a metal circular link at one end and elaborate 
  etchings on the body of it. He frowns, despite himself. Although he is 
  mostly feeling rather apathetic, a portion of his mind cannot help but seize 
  upon the object curiously, noting it's singular Mandalorian heritage and 
  wondering at it's purpose. He raises the carbon dater a little tiredly and 
  scans the object before placing it in his "artifacts" pile.

Shenner offers no reply, at least not a vocal one. But she does lower the lid 
  of her carton and scoot over for a moment or two to the Corellian, 
  approaching him from his side. Her hand moves over just under his chin to 
  touch the other side of his face, as her palm cups there against it, a mute 
  suggestion for him to turn his head and look at her.

Paul's head turns obediently, his eyes reflecting a touch of surprise. He 
  looks down at her, his hands lowering again to his thighs as he scans over 
  her face, confused by her actions as well as his own dispassionate reactions 
  to their finds.

Shen's features hold a compassionate kind of expression, her gaze tender, her 
  mouth crooked in a softened version of her usual lopsided grin. She nods her 
  red head approvingly as Paul looks over; her hand brushes briefly along his 
  cheek, before lifting off to waggle a finger at him. "Don't make me tickle a 
  smile out of you, Paul Nighman," she chides gently.

The corners of his mouth curl slightly and he shakes his head. "I'd challenge 
  you on that one," he murmurs softly, "but this isn't quite the setting for a 
  rumble."

Apparently, that's exactly the response Shenner wanted, for her eyes sparkle 
  momentarily, and her grin broadens. "That's better," she says firmly, "even 
  if it's barely a blip on the scale of Paul Smiles. But I'll letcha pass it 
  for now. Tell me about this guy all this stuff belongs to, maybe we can get 
  a better idea of what we're looking for?" Her tone, though light, is full of 
  interest and encouragement.

His gaze traces over the boxes again and he shrugs. "I really don't know," he 
  admits reluctantly, "I'm making this up as a go along. All I know about the 
  man is that he was a Mandalorian who did not want the rest of his people to 
  join the Empire when they did, and supposedly fled the planet early on in 
  the Clone Wars. He was a historian first and foremost, but years later, when 
  Mandalore had fallen and had become a closed planet to outsiders, he 
  realized that he had to return, to try to find what ever was left of his 
  culture in the hopes of preserving it. Being Mandalorian, he was able to get 
  past most of the usual blockades against foreigners." He pauses for a 
  moment, trying to recall everything that Molari had told him about the man.

Plopping down to sit crosslegged by Paul, Shenner again squelches a flutter in 
  her insides as she lays her hand on Paul's shoulder and squeezes it softly. 
  "Go on," she nudges.

Taking in a deep breath, he does so. "Well, he apparently managed to gather 
  quite a few artifacts, distributed them to museums and historians he knew 
  and trusted ... but toward the end he began to go a little insane 
  apparently. Became obsessed with his work and insisted that there was a core 
  of evil left over on the planet, which he had the key to, but which he could 
  not find. In his more lucid moments, he let on that this "evil" was in fact 
  some sort of crypt where weapons of force were hidden ... but of course the 
  question became weapons of force or weapons of -the- Force." He turns to 
  look at Shen again, frowning at the piles around him. "So, here we are, 
  hoping for more information and the key that he spoke of."

The girl nods evenly, taking all this in. "So d'you think he'd have left a 
  clue in this stuff?" She considers. "And would anybody _here_ have gone over 
  this stuff already? Some kinda list of what's here? If he left important 
  information, you'd think somebody woulda seen it, right?"

Shaking his head, Paul picks up a few of the data chits that he has managed to 
  find so far. "No one has gone through this stuff since it's arrived ... I 
  dunno if my ... if the staff here has been too busy or what." He picks up 
  the strange wand object and twirls it from hand to hand. "No one thought 
  that he had anything of any real value ... like I said, he had been going 
  steadily mad for a number of years, and many of his old colleagues had 
  apparently received shipments of dirt or common dishware with the claim that 
  is was proof of this theories or rare pieces of crockery."

Shenner sits there by Paul and listens to him attentively, her head quirked a 
  bit, her mouth pursed in thought as she waits for him to finish. The girl 
  keeps a hand placed light on his knee, just enough to register the presence 
  of her palm. And at last she says, "Well. If the people who alledgedly have 
  clues about this kid of thing haven't even bothered to look at this 
  stuff.... hrmm. I guess if I were mad, what would I do if I had something 
  _really_ valuable.... guess it depends on how paranoid I am... would I even 
  _send_ it here, if the people I think I'm SUPPOSED to trust are calling me 
  nuts?"
Shenner turns her head about slowly, eying the boxes, her gaze considering.

Paul continues to flip the wand like object in his hands. "I don't know if 
  anyone had clues about this ... as far as Molari knew, the stuff was found 
  and packed up after the man's death ... so he didn't have much say in where 
  it went or how it was packed." His face still looks troubled, though now it 
  appears to be more outwardly focused on this little known Mandalorian 
  historian and his somewhat sad fate. His hands slow and he points the wand 
  at Shenner thoughtfully. "Molari also said that he didn't start raving about 
  finding proof about the Force artifacts until close to the end, and only 
  Molari had been told, after the fact, that some of these "supposed" 
  artifacts might have actually existed and been packed up unknowingly."

"So it could be _anything_, like you said...." Shen quirks a brow at the 
  wand-thing. "So what's that thing, do you know?"

"I haven't the foggiest," he replies in all honesty, peering at the thing more 
  intently, "but I've got a funny feeling about it." He turns it over again 
  and then leans forward so Shen can get a better look at it. "See here, this 
  decorative etching into the metal body? Well, it looks like Mandalorian to 
  me ... but somehow different ... maybe a special variation of the cursive 
  form of the language, one of caste or formality. The one thing that I can 
  tell you about it is it's incomplete ... whatever it is, a part of it is 
  missing."

The girl leans over it to peer at the writing Paul indicates, and says 
  sheepishly, "Well, it looks like so much mookla scratching to me, wish I 
  could help yah on that.... huh." She looks around again, then says brightly, 
  "Guess we better get out the rest of the things that look weird, then go 
  over 'em better, huh?"

"What I want to do is go through all the boxes, if they're all one thing, like 
  the pottery that you found, then I want to repack the stuff and mark the 
  boxes. Everything that is just common objects I want to repack and leave 
  here. Everything else, including stuff like the pottery and such, I want to 
  pack up and take to the hotel with us, and then I can take a look at these," 
  he adds with a touch of excitement, holding up a few data chits, "and see if 
  there are any helpful notes about what he found and what he managed to learn 
  about it all on them. Otherwise, we might as well be digging in the dark."

Shenner's eyebrows quirk at the mention of a hotel, and she flicks Paul a 
  searching glance -- but she doesn't question the obvious implication that 
  they'll be shifting quarters out of his father's house. Inwardly, though, 
  she brightens; _that_ sounds more like Paul should sound, she thinks. Shen 
  beams at him, impulsively leans over to hug him for a moment, and then gets 
  to work on the rest of the cartons, and the sorting of their contents.

Paul receives her enthusiastic hug a little uncertainly, not disliking the 
  gesture in the slightest, but uncertain as to what triggered it. He hugs her 
  back briefly, then allows her to pull away to continue her work. He watches 
  her for awhile, curiously, and then continues pouring through the contents 
  of his own box, his pace increasing in conjunction with his enthusiasm.

Shen seems to fall into a rhythm after a while, a steady one, if slow, paced 
  so she can inspect the objects she draws forth, and either set them aside or 
  repack them as needed. She hums again, her voice carrying softly in the 
  otherwise deserted room, and she seems utterly at ease.

Questing around for any more suspicious boxes, Paul nods contentedly, 
  repacking up the obvious personal effects, making sure that there is nothing 
  that he might have missed. He then packs up the rest of the random 
  artifacts, of which there are only a few, perhaps enough for half a box. He 
  gathers up Shenner's pile as well, sorting through the artifacts pile and 
  the non-artifacts pile and placing the objects in the appropriate boxes. 
  Occasionally he scans a piece of clothing with the carbon dater and removes 
  it from the "personal" pile and places it in the "artifacts" pile. As Shen 
  finishes up her last box, he takes a gander at the pottery, scanning it for 
  an age and smiling with satisfaction as it comes up as being quite old. He 
  then hunkers down next to Shenner and waits for her to complete her task, 
  peering over her shoulder as she does so.

"There!" proclaims Shenner triumphantly, as she packs the last of the newly
  folded old articles of clothing into their box. With a dramatic little
  flourish, she closes the lid, and labels it with Paul's pen.

Patting Shen lightly on the shoulder, Paul gestures to the boxes that he's put 
  to one side, marked for the most part, "personal". "Okay, how about you load 
  those boxes back where we found them and I'll get a portable hydro lifter so 
  we can port the other two boxes over to the hotel and book ourselves in ... 
  then we can return to the house to pick up the rest of our belongings." At 
  the mention of his father's house, he casts a somewhat anxious gaze upward, 
  wondering if his father will stay in his office or head back home ... 
  whether he will be able to retrieve their possessions unscathed, or have to 
  confront the older man yet again. For a flash of a second he considers 
  sending Shenner on one task or the other, but just as quickly recalls the 
  disaster of sending her out on her own the previous night and nixes the idea 
  in the bud.

Readily, Shenner bobs her russet head, and with another lopsided grin up at 
  Paul, she moves to repack the boxes as he's asked. "I'll get 'em in no time 
  at all," she promises.

Nodding brusquely, Paul heads off, and shortly thereafter returns with a hand 
  directed hydrolift. He edges it under the heavy box of pottery and then 
  easily lifts the lighter box of random artifacts on it, checking his chrono 
  with a slight frown. "Better yet," he mutters, tension threading through his 
  voice,"let's get our stuff first .... why make two trips, right?"

Shenner, brushing her hands off on her breeches and then shoving the right one 
  through her hair, peers at her friend and reaches up to clasp his shoulder. 
  "Good idea," she says, agreeably.

Not responding to her words or her touch, Paul takes the handles of the 
  anti-grav unit and directs it over to the lift, twitching slightly from side 
  to side as he waits impatiently for the doors to open. When they do, he 
  moves with alacrity, waiting only for Shen to get safely inside before 
  hitting the key to bring them up to the main floor and the exit way. Again, 
  as soon as the doors open, he is off again, his head shifting from side to 
  side, as if checking to see if the coast is clear, even though he doesn't 
  wait for confirmation, but just bustles right through the main hall and out 
  of the building.

[To be continued...]