Silence. All Coran heard is silence as his ship sped into hyperspace on some unknown course. His numbers were random, and he hoped he would blow up, but he held his breath (figuratively) throughout the entire trip. He waited for his impending death.

"I had no choice, right?" he said to himself, "I mean, really, I had no time to think about any coordinates. Coran! You need to memorize something, or have a preset location set! That is true, but really, in that crunch time, I forgot everything." He continued arguing to himself, sweating in the cold air of his ship.

A bright light shined, and Coran said a few prayers to his God. He waited for the eternal peace.

He opened his eyes to find in front of him a space station. "Probably a derelict, but I will try."

"This is Captain Coran Black of the Divine Maea, is there anyone in this space station?"

((OOC: For anyone that didn't figure it out, the stations is the Astral Astoria.))

"This is Janus, of course there are people on this station, otherwise, why would it be in the middle of a trade lane?"

"Oh really?"

"Yes sir, would you like to land here?"

"Sure, are there any repair individuals on board?"

"Yes there are."

"I was figuring you'd ask that question."

"Why?"

"You look like you have a fire on one of your engines."

"Really? Then I am going to need that fixed and my computer system."

"Alright, feel free to dock in Spacedock 4."

"Thank you," Coran said as he sighed. He'd have to do this manually. He looked over at his co-pilot and said, "Alright, we're going to do a manual orbit of the station and find spacedock 4."

"Roger," he said, as he began looking carefully. Coran gripped the throttle lever and pushed it up a little, circling the station. "I see it, the aurebesh 4 over the dock."

"Thanks," Coran said as he throttled down to coasting. He steered towards the dock, and slowed down to a stop. "I forgot how hard this was." He then opened a switch which allowed manual control of the stabilizers. He then turned those off, allowing the ship to slowly drop onto it's landing gear.

He got up from the chair and opened the boarding ramp manually. The chief repairman walked up to greet him. "So aside from the engine fire, what else is going on?"

"My sensors are shot, and a lot of the computer functions aren't working."

"When did you get this thing?"

"Few years ago, it's a...company...ship."

"Really now, well how'd you get here? Janus told me that you thought we were a derelict."

Coran thought of something quick, "I think I was drunk and I entered some random coordinates."

"That'll do it, it's a good thing you are still alive."

"Yeah."

"So, we'll get this fixed up, and while we're at it, go get you and your crew some rooms, it may be a while."

"Okay," he said, as he walked into the Astral Astoria.

OOC NOTE: This thread has to take place before Rough Encounters, since Cendar probably wouldn't be allowed back to the Astoria after that.


The bar was dirty. There wasn't any other word for the grime that covered the floors, the ceilings, the counters, tables, even the dishes. And it smelled. Bad. Worse than the droppings of a whole herd of banthas. It was a wonder that anyone wanted to eat or drink there.

But for some reason the place was always packed. Perhaps it had something to do with the rather unique dishes served; before coming to this place, most people had never heard of a Cheesy Western or the bowl o'chilli. Or perhaps it was that the food - and the drinks - were dirt cheap. Either way, the T-Room was always frequented by customers, all hours of the day.

It was for that reason that Cendar had chosen to make it his common eatery. While it was difficult to lose oneself when one was as big as he, it was easier when there were hundreds of people around you all the time. And it helped that he could literally turn off his sense of smell. It was one of the many benifits that came from being a cyborg.

Several years ago, Cendar had stepped on a mine on some insignificant, war-torn planet. He'd lost both legs, his arms, part of his head, and nearly his life. Nursed back to health at the expense of most of his credits, he had emerged from the ordeal stronger than ever. He had special modifications to his body that, combined with the parts of him that were still organic, made him a very formidable foe.

Now, he hunched over in the corner of the T-Room, scanning faces and watching the various sentients who were absorbed in their own meaningless existences. None particularly caught his eye, so he turned to the droid waiter that he had been ignoring for a half-hour and ordered a cheesy and a bowl, plus the T-Room's nonalcoholic version of Corellian ale. He expected a mark to come in at some point, and he would need all his wits. No time to be getting drunk now.

As he stretched his bionic arms out to take the food, he thought once more about his 'accident.' He still was not convinced that he had simply stepped on a random mine; in fact, he believed that an Imperial officer had set him up. He'd escaped an Imperial labor camp several years before the accident, and the officer that had been in command had been dismissed for allowing it. Of course, Cendar's escape had been like everything else he did - explosive, to say the least. By the time he got off the planet, there was nothing left of the camp but ash. He figured the dismissed commandant had come after revenge.

The T-Room's specialties were good, that was for sure. It didn't matter how much grease they were fried in or how much grime from the dishes made it into his mouth. The risk was worth this kind of taste. He chewed slowly, savoring the taste as long as possible.

Then one sentient caught his eye. It was a young man, sitting at the bar. To most he would seem to be just an average man, nothing really noticeable about him. His brown hair hung over his face, hiding his forehead, but it didn't hide his penetrating green eyes. They stared at everyone and everything, similar to Cendar's own earlier scannings. This might be a man worth meeting.

Cendar lifted his huge bulk out of his chair with ease and strode over to the bar. Plopping down next to the stranger, he said, "You know, if you're hiding from someone, it's generally best not to make it obvious that you're scanning whatever room you're in."

The kid jumped, and Cendar almost laughed. "Don't worry, kid, I ain't gonna turn you in, if that's what you're worried about. Unless there's a big bounty on ya, I generally tend to either leave ya alone or even help you out. So, what's your deal?"

Coran looked over to the man that just walked up to him. He looked like he was to be intimidating, but it takes a bit to intimidate him. Jason looked him up and down quickly, the way he stood and carried himself clued him in that he may be bionic.

The waitress arrived with his ale very shortly after the man beside him had said this. The clear liquid appeared red with the glass that the Corellian ale was in. He had asked for this brand specially. In his line of work he could afford to splurge a little.

"I am not, nor do I need to hide from someone. If I did need to, I would know how. In my buisness, I make sure to not have any enemies," Coran said, taking a drink from his drink. "My 'deal' is that I am lucky to be alive right now."